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THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES 


BOOKS    BY 

C.  N.  AND  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 

THE  GOLDEN  SILENCE 

THE  MOTOR  MAID 

LOBD  LOVELAND  DISCOVERS  AMERICA 

SET  IN  SILVER 

THE  LIGHTNING  CONDUCTOR 

THE  PRINCESS  PASSES 

MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

LADY  BETTY  ACROSS  THE  WATER 

ROSEMARY  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  FATHER 

THE  PRINCESS  VIRGINIA 

THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

THE  CHAPERON 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES 


BOOKS   BY 

C.  N.  AND  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 

THE  GOLDEN  SILENCE 

THE  MOTOR  MAID 

LORD  LOVELAND  DISCOVERS  AMERICA 

SET  IN  SILVER 

THE  LIGHTNING  CONDUCTOB 

THE  PRINCESS  PASSES 

MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

LADY  BETTY  ACROSS  THE  WATER 

ROSEMARY  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  FATHER 

THE  PRINCESS  VIRGINIA 

THE  CAR  OF  DESTINY 

THE  CHAPERON 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Mary  was  a  goddess  on  a  golden  pinnacle. 

This  was  life;  the  wine  of  life  "  .     Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 


Mary  Grant 22 

"'I   can't  promise!'  she   exclaimed.     *  I've 

never  wanted  to  marry.' '  286 

" '  It  was  Fate  brought  you  —  to  give  you  to 

me.     Do  you  regret  it? '"     .         .         .     398 


"MARY  WAS  A  GODDESS  ON  A  GOLDEN  PINNACLE.    THIS  WAS 
LIFE;  THE  WINE  OF  LIFE" 


THE  GUESTS  OF 
HERCULES 

BY  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 


Authors  of  "The  Motor  Maid,"  "Lord  Loveland  Discovers 
America,"  "Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR 
BY  M.  LEONE  BRACKER 

AND 

ARTHUR  H.  BUCKLAND 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK. 


Copyright,  1912,  by 

C.  N.  &  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  qf 

translation  into  Foreign  Languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mary  was  a  goddess  on  a  golden  pinnacle. 

This  was  life;  the  wine  of  life  "  .     Frontispiece 


FACING  PACE 


Mary  Grant .22 

'*  *  I  can't  promise!'  she   exclaimed.      'I've 

never  wanted  to  marry.'  '  286 

"  *  It  was  Fate  brought  you  —  to  give  you  to 

me.     Do  you  regret  it? '"     .          .          .      398 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES 

LONG  shadows  of  late  afternoon  lay  straight  and 
thin  across  the  garden  path;  shadows  of  beech  trees 
that  ranged  themselves  in  an  undeviating  line,  like 
an  inner  wall  within  the  convent  wall  of  brick;  and 
the  soaring  trees  were  very  old,  as  old  perhaps  as  the 
convent  itself,  whose  stone  had  the  same  soft  tints 
of  faded  red  and  brown  as  the  autumn  leaves  which 
sparsely  jewelled  the  beeches'  silver. 

A  tall  girl  in  the  habit  of  a  novice  walked  the 
path  alone,  moving  slowly  across  the  stripes  of  sun- 
,  light  and  shadow  which  inlaid  the  gravel  with  equal 
bars  of  black  and  reddish  gold.  There  was  a  smell 
of  autumn  on  the  windless  air,  bitter  yet  sweet;  the 
scent  of  dying  leaves,  and  fading  flowers  loth  to 
perish,  of  rose-berries  that  had  usurped  the  place 
of  roses,  of  chrysanthemums  chilled  by  frost,  of 
moist  earth  deprived  of  sun,  and  of  the  green  moss- 
like  film  overgrowing  all  the  trunks  of  the  old  beech 
trees.  The  novice  was  saying  goodbye  to  the  con- 
vent garden,  and  the  long  straight  path  under  the 
wall,  where  every  day  for  many  years  she  had 
walked,  spring  and  summer,  autumn  and  winter; 
days  of  rain,  days  of  sun,  days  of  boisterous  wind, 
days  of  white  feathery  snow  —  all  the  days  through 

3 


4         THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

which  she  had  passed,  on  her  way  from  childhood  to 
womanhood.  Best  of  all,  she  had  loved  the  garden 
and  her  favourite  path  in  spring,  when  vague  hopes 
like  dreams  stirred  in  her  blood,  when  it  seemed  that 
she  could  hear  the  whisper  of  the  sap  in  the  veins  of 
the  trees,  and  the  crisp  stir  of  the  buds  as  they  un- 
folded. She  wished  that  she  could  have  been  going 
out  of  the  garden  in  the  brightness  and  fragrance 
of  spring.  The  young  beauty  of  the  world  would 
have  been  a  good  omen  for  the  happiness  of  her  new 
life.  The  sorrowful  incense  of  Nature  in  decay  cast 
a  spell  of  sadness  over  her,  even  of  fear,  lest  after 
all  she  were  doing  a  wrong  thing,  making  a  mistake 
which  could  never  be  amended. 

The  spirit  of  the  past  laid  a  hand  upon  her  heart. 
Ghosts  of  sweet  days  gone  long  ago  beckoned  her 
back  to  the  land  of  vanished  hours.  The  garden 
was  the  garden  of  the  past;  for  here,  within  the  high 
walls  draped  in  flowering  creepers  and  ivy  old  as 
history,  past,  present,  and  future  were  all  as  one, 
and  had  been  so  for  many  a  tranquil  generation  of 
calm-faced,  dark-veiled  women.  Suddenly  a  great 
homesickness  fell  upon  the  novice  like  an  iron 
weight.  She  longed  to  rush  into  the  house,  to  fling 
herself  at  Reverend  Mother's  feet,  and  cry  out  that 
she  wanted  to  take  back  her  decision,  that  she 
wanted  everything  to  be  as  it  had  been  before.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  change.  What  was  done,  was  done. 

Deliberately,  she  had  given  up  her  home,  and  all 
the  kind  women  who  had  made  the  place  home  for 
her,  from  the  time  when  she  was  a  child  eight 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES        5 

years  old  until  now,  when  she  was  twenty-four. 
Sixteen  years!  It  was  a  lifetime.  Memories  of  her 
child-world  before  convent  days  were  more  like 
dreams  than  memories  of  real  things  that  had  be- 
fallen her,  Mary  Grant.  And  yet,  on  this  her  last 
day  in  the  convent,  recollections  of  the  first  were 
crystal  clear,  as  they  never  had  been  in  the  years 
that  lay  between. 

Her  father  had  brought  her  a  long  way,  In  a  train. 
Something  dreadful  had  happened,  which  had  made 
him  stop  loving  her.  She  could  not  guess  what,  for 
she  had  done  nothing  wrong  so  far  as  she  knew:  but 
a  few  days  before,  her  nurse,  a  kind  old  woman  of  a 
comfortable  fatness,  had  put  her  into  a  room  where 
her  father  was  and  gently  shut  the  door,  leaving 
the  two  alone  together.  Mary  had  gone  to  him 
expecting  a  kiss,  for  he  was  always  kind,  though  she 
did  not  feel  that  she  knew  him  well  —  only  a  little 
better,  perhaps,  than  the  radiant  young  mother 
whom  she  seldom  saw  for  more  than  five  minutes  at 
a  time.  But  instead  of  kissing  her  as  usual,  he  had 
turned  upon  her  a  look  of  dislike,  almost  of  horror, 
which  often  came  to  her  afterward,  in  dreams.  Tak- 
ing the  little  girl  by  the  shoulder  not  ungently,  but 
very  coldly,  and  as  if  he  were  in  a  great  hurry  to  be 
rid  of  her,  he  pushed  rather  than  led  her  to  the  door. 
Opening  it,  he  called  the  nurse,  in  a  sharp,  dis- 
pleased voice.  "I  don't  want  the  child,"  he  said. 
"I  can't  have  her  here.  Don't  bring  her  to  me 
again  without  being  asked."  Then  the  kind,  fat«old 
woman  had  caught  Mary  in  her  arms  and  carried 


6        THE     GUESTS     OF    HERCULES 

her  upstairs,  a  thing  that  had  not  happened  for 
years.  And  in  the  nursery  the  good  creature  had 
cried  over  the  "poor  bairn"  a  good  deal,  mumbling 
strange  things  which  Mary  could  not  understand. 
But  a  few  words  had  lingered  in  her  memory,  some- 
thing about  its  being  cruel  and  unjust  to  visit  the  sins 
of  others  on  innocent  babies.  A  few  days  afterward 
Mary's  father,  very  thin  and  strange-looking,  with 
hard  lines  in  his  handsome  brown  face,  took  her 
with  him  on  a  journey,  after  nurse  had  kissed  her 
many  times  with  streaming  tears.  At  last  they  had 
got  out  of  the  train  into  a  carriage,  and  driven  a  long 
way.  At  evening  they  had  come  to  a  tall,  beautiful 
gateway,  which  had  carved  stone  animals  on  high 
pillars  at  either  side.  That  was  the  gate  of  the 
Convent  of  Saint  Ursula-of-the-Lake,  the  gate  of 
Mary's  home-to-be:  and  in  a  big,  bare  parlour,  with 
long  windows  and  a  polished  oak  floor  that  reflected 
curious  white  birds  and  dragons  of  an  escutcheon  on 
the  ceiling,  Reverend  Mother  had  received  them. 
She  had  taken  Mary  on  her  lap;  and  when,  after 
much  talk  about  school  and  years  to  come,  the 
child's  father  had  gone,  shadowy,  dark-robed  women 
had  glided  softly  into  the  room.  They  had  crowded 
round  the  little  girl,  like  children  round  a  new  doll, 
petting  and  murmuring  over  her:  and  she  had  been 
given  cake  and  milk,  and  wonderful  preserved  fruit, 
such  as  she  had  never  tasted. 

Some  of  those  dear  women  had  gone  since  then, 
not  -as  she  was  going,  out  into  an  unknown,  maybe 
disappointing,  world,  but  to  a  place  where  happiness 


THE     GUESTS     OF     HERCULES        7 

was  certain,  according  to  their  faith.  Mary  had  not 
forgotten  one  of  the  kind  faces  —  and  all  those  who 
remained  she  loved  dearly;  yet  she  was  leaving  them 
to-day.  Already  it  was  time.  She  had  wished  to 
come  out  into  the  garden  alone  for  this  last  walk, 
and  to  wear  the  habit  of  her  novitiate,  though  she 
had  voluntarily  given  up  the  right  to  it  forever. 
She  must  go  in  and  dress  for  the  world,  as  she  had 
not  dressed  for  years  which  seemed  twice  their  real 
length.  She  must  go  in,  and  bid  them  all  goodbye 
—  Reverend  Mother,  and  the  nuns,  and  novices,  and 
the  schoolgirls,  of  whose  number  she  had  once  been. 

She  stood  still,  looking  toward  the  far  end  of  the 
path,  her  back  turned  toward  the  gray  face  of  the 
convent. 

"Goodbye,  dear  old  sundial,  that  has  told  so 
many  of  my  hours,"  she  said.  "Goodbye,  sweet 
rose-trees  that  I  planted,  and  all  the  others  I've 
loved  so  long.  Goodbye,  dear  laurel  bushes,  that 
know  my  thoughts.  Goodbye,  everything." 

Her  arms  hung  at  her  sides,  lost  in  the  folds  of 
her  veil.  Slowly  tears  filled  her  eyes,  but  did  not 
fall  until  a  delicate  sound  of  light-running  feet  on 
grass  made  her  start,  and  wink  the  tears  away. 
They  rolled  down  her  white  cheeks  in  four  bright 
drops,  which  she  hastily  dried  with  the  back  of  her 
hand;  and  no  more  tears  followed.  When  she  was 
sure  of  herself,  she  turned  and  saw  a  girl  running  to 
her  from  the  house,  a  pretty,  brown-haired  girl  in  a 
blue  dress  that  looked  very  frivolous  and  worldly  in 
contrast  to  Mary's  habit.  But  the  bushes  and  the 


8        THE     GUESTS     OF     HERCULES 

sundial,  and  the  fading  flowers  that  tapestried  the 
ivy  on  the  old  wall,  were  used  to  such  frivolities. 
Generations  of  schoolgirls,  taught  and  guarded  by 
the  Sisters  of  Saint  Ursula-of-the-Lake,  had  played 
and  whispered  secrets  along  this  garden  path. 

"Dearest  Mary!"  exclaimed  the  girl  in  blue.  "I 
begged  them  to  let  me  come  to  you  just  for  a  few 
minutes  —  a  last  talk.  Do  you  mind?" 

Mary  had  wanted  to  be  alone,  but  suddenly  she 
was  glad  that,  after  all,  this  girl  was  with  her.  "You 
call  me  'Mary' ! "  she  said.  "How  strange  it  seems  to 
be  Mary  again  —  almost  wrong,  and  —  frightening." 

"But  you're  not  Sister  Rose  any  longer,"  the  girl 
in  blue  answered.  "There's  nothing  remote  about 
you  now.  You're  my  dear  old  chum,  just  as  you 
used  to  be.  And  will  you  please  begin  to  be  frivolous 
by  calling  me  Peter?" 

Mary  smiled,  and  two  round  dimples  showed 
themselves  in  the  cheeks  still  wet  with  tears.  She 
and  this  girl,  four  years  younger  than  herself,  had 
begun  to  love  each  other  dearly  in  school  days,  when 
Mary  Grant  was  nineteen,  and  Mary  Maxwell 
fifteen.  They  had  gone  on  loving  each  other  dearly 
till  the  elder  Mary  was  twenty-one,  and  the  younger 
seventeen.  Then  Molly  Maxwell  —  who  named 
herself  "Peter  Pan"  because  she  hated  the  thought 
of  growing  up  —  had  to  go  back  to  her  home  in 
America  and  "come  out,"  to  please  her  father,  who 
was  by  birth  a  Scotsman,  but  who  had  made  his 
money  in  New  York.  After  three  gay  seasons  she 
had  begged  to  return  for  six  months  to  school,  and 


THE     GUESTS    OF     HERCULES        9 

see  her  friend  Mary  Grant  —  Sister  Rose  —  before 
the  final  vows  were  taken.  Also  she  had  wished  to 
see  another  Mary,  who  had  been  almost  equally  her 
friend  ("the  three  Maries"  they  had  always  been 
called,  or  "the  Queen's  Maries");  but  the  third  of 
the  three  Maries  had  disappeared,  and  about  her 
going  there  was  a  mystery  which  Reverend  Mother 
did  not  wish  to  have  broken. 

"Peter,"  Sister  Rose  echoed  obediently,  as  the 
younger  girl  clasped  her  arm,  making  her  walk 
slowly  toward  the  sundial  at  the  far  end  of  the 
path. 

"It  does  sound  good  to  hear  you  call  me  that 
again,"  Molly  Maxwell  said.  "You've  been  so  stiff 
and  different  since  I  came  back  and  found  you 
turned  into  Sister  Rose.  Often  I've  been  sorry  I 
came.  And  now,  when  I've  got  three  months  still 
to  stay,  you're  going  to  leave  me.  If  only  you 
could  have  waited,  to  change  your  mind!" 

"If  I  had  waited,  I  couldn't  have  changed  it  at 
all,"  Sister  Rose  reminded  her.  "You  know " 

"Yes,  I  know.  It  was  the  eleventh  hour.  An- 
other week,  and  you  would  have  taken  your  vows. 
Oh,  I  don't  mean  what  I  said,  dear.  I'm  glad 
you're  going  —  thankful.  You  hadn't  the  vocation. 
It  would  have  killed  you." 

"No.  For  here  they  make  it  hard  for  novices  on 
purpose,  so  that  they  may  know  the  worst  there  is  to 
expect,  and  be  sure  they're  strong  enough  in  body 
and  heart.  I  wasn't  fit.  I  feared  I  wasn't ' 

"You  weren't  —  that  is,  your  body  and  heart 


10       THE     GUESTS     OF     HERCULES 

are  fitted  for  a  different  life.  You'll  be  happy, 
very  happy." 

"I  wonder?"  Mary  said,  in  a  whisper. 

"Of  course  you  will.  You'll  tell  me  so  when  we 
meet  again,  out  in  my  world  that  will  be  your 
world,  too.  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you  now,  and 
I  could,  of  course.  Only  I  had  to  beg  the  pater  so 
hard  to  let  me  come  here,  I'd  be  ashamed  to  cable 
him  that  I  wanted  to  get  away  before  the  six  months 
were  up.  He  wouldn't  understand  how  different 
everything  is  because  I'm  going  to  lose  you." 

"In  a  way,  you  would  have  lost  me  if  —  if  I'd 
stayed,  and  —  everything  had  been  as  I  expected." 

"I  know.  They've  let  you  be  with  me  more  as  a 
novice  than  you  could  be  as  a  professed  nun.  Still, 
you'd  have  been  under  the  same  roof.  I  could  have 
seen  you  often.  But  I  am  glad.  I'm  not  thinking 
of  myself.  And  we'll  meet  just  as  soon  as  we  can, 
when  my  time's  up  here.  Father's  coming  back  to 
his  dear  native  Fifeshire  to  fetch  me,  and  I'll  make 
him  take  me  to  you,  wherever  you  are,  or  else  you'll 
visit  me;  better  still.  But  it  seems  a  long  time 
to  wait,  for  I  really  did  come  back  here  to  be  a 
'parlour  boarder,'  a  heap  more  to  see  you  than  for 
any  other  reason.  And,  besides,  there's  another 
thing.  Only  I  hardly  know  how  to  say  it,  or  whether 
I  dare  say  it  at  all." 

Sister  Rose  looked  suddenly  anxious,  as  if  she 
were  afraid  of  something  that  might  follow.  "What 
is  it?"  she  asked  quickly,  almost  sharply.  "You 
must  tell  me." 


THE     GUESTS     OF    HERCULES      11 

"Why,  it's  nothing  to  tell  —  exactly.  It's  only 
this:  I'm  worried.  I'm  glad  you're  not  going  to  be 
a  nun  all  your  life,  dear;  delighted  —  enchanted. 
You're  given  back  to  me.  But  —  I  worry  because 
I  can't  help  feeling  that  I've  got  something  to  do 
with  the  changing  of  your  mind  so  suddenly;  that  if 
ever  you  should  regret  anything  —  not  that  you  will, 
but  if  you  should  —  you  might  blame  me,  hate  me, 
perhaps." 

"I  never  shall  do  either,  whatever  happens,"  the 
novice  said,  earnestly  and  gravely.  She  did  not  look 
at  her  friend  as  she  spoke,  though  they  were  so 
nearly  of  the  same  height  as  they  walked,  their 
arms  linked  together,  that  they  could  gaze  straight 
into  one  another's  eyes.  Instead,  she  looked  up  at 
the  sky,  through  the  groined  gray  ceiling  of  tree- 
branches,  as  if  offering  a  vow.  And  seeing  her 
uplifted  profile  with  its  pure  features  and  clear 
curve  of  dark  lashes,  Peter  thought  how  beautiful 
she  was,  of  a  beauty  quite  unearthly,  and  perhaps 
unsuited  to  the  world.  With  a  pang,  she  wondered 
if  such  a  girl  would  not  have  been  safer  forever  in 
the  convent  where  she  had  lived  most  of  her  years. 
And  though  she  herself  was  four  years  younger,  she 
felt  old  and  mature,  and  terribly  wise  compared 
with  Sister  Rose.  An  awful  sense  of  responsibility 
was  upon  her.  She  was  afraid  of  it.  Her  pretty 
blond  face,  with  its  bright  and  shrewd  gray  eyes, 
looked  almost  drawn,  and  lost  the  fresh  colour  that 
made  the  little  golden  freckles  charming  as  the  dust 
of  flower-pollen  on  her  rounded  cheeks. 


12       THE    GUESTS     OF    HERCULES 

"But  I  have  got  something  to  do  with  it,  haven't 
I?"  she  persisted,  longing  for  contradiction,  yet 
certain  that  it  would  not  come. 

"I  hardly  know  —  to  be  quite  honest,"  Mary 
answered.  "I  don't  know  what  I  might  have  done 
if  you  hadn't  come  back  and  told  me  things  about 
your  life,  and  all  your  travels  with  your  father - 
things  that  made  me  tingle.  Maybe  I  should  never 
have  had  the  courage  without  that  incentive.  But, 
Peter,  I'll  tell  you  something  I  couldn't  have  told 
you  till  to-day.  Since  the  very  beginning  of  my 
novitiate  I  was  never  happy,  never  at  rest." 

"Truly?  You  wanted  to  go,  even  then,  for  two- 
whole  years?" 

"I  don't  know  what  I  wanted.  But  suddenly 
all  the  sweet  calm  was  broken.  You've  often  looked 
out  from  the  dormitory  windows  over  the  lake,  and 
seen  how  a  wind  springing  up  in  an  instant  ruffles 
the  clear  surface.  It's  just  like  a  mirror  brbken 
into  a  thousand  tiny  fragments.  Well,  it  was  so 
with  me,  with  my  spirit.  And  after  all  these  years, 
when  I'd  been  so  contented,  so  happy  that  I  couldn't 
even  bear,  as  a  schoolgirl,  to  go  away  for  two  or 
three  days  to  visit  Lady  MacMillan  in  the  holidays, 
without  nearly  dying  of  homesickness  before  I  could 
be  brought  back!  As  a  postulant  I  was  just  as 
happy,  too.  You  know,  I  wouldn't  go  out  into  the 
world  to  try  my  resolve,  as  Reverend  Mother  ad- 
vised. I  was  so  sure  there  could  be  no  home  for  me 
but  this.  Then  came  the  change.  Oh,  Peter,  I  hope  it 
wasn't  the  legacy !  I  pray  I'm  not  so  mean  as  that ! " 


THE    GUESTS    OF     HERCULES      13 

"How  long  was  it  after  your  novitiate  began  that 
the  money  was  left  you?"  Peter  asked:  for  this  was 
the  first  intimate  talk  alone  and  undisturbed  that 
she  had  had  with  her  old  school  friend  since  coming 
back  to  the  convent  three  months  ago.  She  knew 
vaguely  that  a  cousin  of  Mary's  dead  father  had 
left  the  novice  money,  and  that  it  had  been  unex- 
pected, as  the  lady  was  not  a  Roman  Catholic,  and 
had  relations  just  as  near,  of  her  own  religion.  But 
Peter  did  not  quite  know  when  the  news  had  come, 
or  what  had  happened  then. 

"It  was  the  very  next  day.  That  was  odd,  wasn't 
it?  Though  I  don't  know,  exactly,  why  it  should 
have  seemed  odd.  It  had  to  happen  on  some  day. 
Why  not  that  one?  I  was  glad  I  should  have  a  good 
dowry  —  quite  proud  to  be  of  some  use  to  the  con- 
vent. I  didn't  think  what  I  might  have  done  for 
myself,  if  I'd  been  in  the  world  —  not  then.  But 
afterward,  thoughts  crept  into  my  head.  I  used 
to  push  them  out  again  as  fast  as  they  crawled  in, 
and  I  told  myself  what  a  good  thing  I  had  a  safe 
refuge,  remembering  my  father,  what  he  wrote  about 
himself,  and  my  mother." 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent.  There  was  no 
need  to  explain,  for  Peter  knew  all  about  the  ter- 
rible letter  that  had  come  from  India  with  the  news 
of  Major  Grant's  death.  It  had  arrived  before 
Mary  resolved  to  take  vows,  while  she  was  still  a 
fellow  schoolgirl  of  Peter's,  older  than  most  of  the 
girls,  looked  up  to  and  adored,  and  probably  it  had 
done  more  than  anything  else  to  decide  her  that 


14       THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

she  had  a  "vocation."  Mary  had  told  about  the 
letter  at  the  time,  with  stormy  tears :  how  her  father 
in  dying  wrote  down  the  story  of  the  past,  as  a 
warning  to  his  daughter,  whom  he  had  not  loved; 
told  the  girl  that  her  mother  had  run  away  with 
one  of  his  brother  officers;  that  he,  springing  from 
a  family  of  reckless  gamblers,  had  himself  become  a 
gambler;  that  he  had  thrown  away  most  of  his 
money;  and  that  his  last  words  to  Mary  were,  "You 
have  wild  blood  in  your  veins.  Be  careful:  don't 
let  it  ruin  your  life,  as  two  other  lives  have  been 
ruined  before  you." 

"Then,"  Mary  went  on,  while  Peter  waited,  "for 
a  few  weeks,  or  a  few  days,  I  would  be  more  peace- 
ful. But  the  restlessness  always  came  again.  And, 
after  the  end  of  the  first  year,  it  grew  worse.  I  was 
never  happy  for  more  than  a  few  hours  together. 
Still  I  meant  to  fight  till  the  end.  I  never  thought 
seriously  of  giving  it  up." 

"Until  after  I  came?"  Peter  broke  in. 

"Oh,  I  was  happier  for  a  while  after  you  came. 
You  took  my  mind  off  myself." 

"And  turned  it  to  myself,  or,  rather,  to  the  world 
I  lived  in.  I'm  glad,  yes,  I'm  glad,  I  was  in  time, 
and  yet  —  oh,  Mary,  you  won't  go  to  Monte  Carlo, 
will  you?" 

Mary  stopped  short  in  her  walk,  and  turned  to 
face  Peter. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  she  asked,  sharply. 
"What  can  make  you  think  of  Monte  Carlo?" 

"Only,  you  seemed  so  interested  in  hearing  me 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      15 

tell  about  staying  with  father  at  Stellamare,  my 
cousin's  house.  You  asked  me  such  a  lot  of 
questions  about  it  and  about  the  Casino,  more  than 
about  any  other  place,  even  Rome.  And  you  looked 
excited  when  I  told  you.  Your  cheeks  grew  red. 
I  noticed  then,  but  it  didn't  matter,  because  you 
were  going  to  live  here  always,  and  be  a  nun. 
Now- 

"Now  what  does  it  matter?"  the  novice  asked, 
almost  defiantly.  "Why  should  it  occur  to  me  to 
go  to  Monte  Carlo?" 

"Only  because  you  were  interested,  and  perhaps 
I  may  have  made  the  Riviera  seem  even  more 
beautiful  and  amusing  than  it  really  is.  And  be- 
sides —  if  it  should  be  true,  what  your  father  was 
afraid  of " 

"What?" 

"That  you  inherit  his  love  of  gambling.  Oh, 
I  couldn't  bear  it,  darling,  to  think  7  had  sent  you 
to  Monte  Carlo." 

"He  didn't  know  enough  about  me  to  know 
whether  I  inherited  anything  from  him  or  not.  I 
hardly  understand  what  gambling  means,  except 
what  you've  told  me.  It's  only  a  word  like  a  bird 
of  ill  omen.  And  what  you  said  about  the  play  at 
the  Casino  didn't  interest  me  as  other  things  did. 
It  didn't  sound  attractive  at  all." 

"It's  different  when  you're  there,"  Peter  said. 

"I  don't  think  it  would  be  for  me.  I'm  almost 
sure  I'm  not  like  that  —  if  I  can  be  sure  of  anything 
about  myself.  Perhaps  I  can't !  But  you  described 


16       THE    GUESTS     OF    HERCULES 

the  place  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  paradise  —  and  all 
the  Riviera.  You  said  you  would  go  back  in  the 
spring  with  your  father.  You  didn't  seem  to  think 
it  wicked  and  dangerous  for  yourself." 

"Monte  Carlo  isn't  any  more  wicked  than  other 
places,  and  it's  dangerous  only  for  born  gamblers," 
Peter  argued.  "I'm  not  one.  Neither  is  my  father, 
except  in  Wall  Street.  He  plays  a  little  for  fun,  that's 
all.  And  my  cousin  Jim  Schuyler  never  goes  near 
the  Casino  except  for  a  concert  or  the  opera.  But 
you  —  all  alone  there  —  you  who  know  no  more  of 
life  than  a  baby!  It  doesn't  bear  thinking  of." 

"Don't  think  of  it,"  said  Mary,  rather  dryly. 
"I  have  no  idea  of  going  to  Monte  Carlo." 

"Thank  goodness!  Well,  I  only  wanted  to  be  sure. 
I  couldn't  help  worrying.  Because,  if  anything  had 
drawn  you  there,  it  would  have  been  my  fault.  You 
would  hardly  have  heard  of  Monte  Carlo  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  my  stories.  A  cloistered  saint  like  you!" 

"Is  that  the  way  you  think  of  me  in  these  days?" 
The  novice  blushed  and  smiled,  showing  her  friendly 
dimples.  "I  wish  I  felt  a  saint." 

"You  are  one.  And  yet"  —  Peter  gazed  at  her 
with  sudden  keenness  —  "I  don't  believe  you  were 
made  to  be  a  saint.  It's  the  years  here  that  have 
moulded  you  into  what  you  are.  But,  there's  some- 
thing different  underneath." 

"Nothing  very  bad,  I  hope?"  Mary  looked 
actually  frightened,  as  if  she  did  not  know  herself, 
and  feared  an  unfavourable  opinion,  which  might 
be  true. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       17 

"No,  indeed.  But  different  —  quite  a  different 
You  from  what  any  of  us,  even  yourself,  have 
ever  seen.  It  will  come  out.  Life  will  bring  it 
out." 

"You  talk,"  said  Mary,  "as  if  you  were  older 
than  I." 

"So  I  am,  in  every  way  except  years,  and  they 
count  least.  Oh,  Mary,  how  I  do  wish  I  were  going 
with  you!" 

"So  do  I.  And  yet  perhaps  it  will  be  good  for 
me  to  begin  alone." 

"You  won't  be  alone." 

"No.  Of  course,  there  will  be  Lady  MacMillan 
taking  me  to  London.  And  afterward  there'll  be 
my  aunt  and  cousin.  But  I've  never  seen  them 
since  I  was  too  tiny  to  remember  them  at  all,  except 
that  my  cousin  Elinor  had  a  lovely  big  doll  she 
wouldn't  let  me  touch.  It's  the  same  as  being  alone, 
going  to  them.  I  shall  have  to  get  acquainted  with 
them  and  the  world  at  the  same  time." 

"Are  you  terrified?" 

"A  little.  Oh,  a  good  deal!  I  think  now,  at  the 
last  moment,  I'd  take  everything  back,  and  stay, 
if  I  could." 

"No,  you  wouldn't,  if  you  had  the  choice,  and 
you  saw  the  gates  closing  on  you  —  forever.  You'd 
run  out." 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps.  But  how  I  shall  miss 
them  all!  Reverend  Mother,  and  the  sisters,  and 
you,  and  the  garden,  and  looking  out  over  the  lake 
far  away  to  the  mountains." 


18       THE    GUESTS    OF     HERCULES 

"But  there'll  be  other  mountains." 

"Yes,  other  mountains." 

"Think  of  the  mountains  of  Italy." 

"Ch,  I  do.  When  the  waves  of  regret  and  home- 
sickness come  I  cheer  myself  with  thoughts  of  Italy. 
Ever  since  I  can  remember,  I've  wanted  Italy;  ever 
since  I  began  to  study  history  and  look  at  maps, 
and  even  to  read  the  lives  of  the  saints,  I've  cared 
more  about  Italy  than  any  other  country.  When 
I  expected  to  spend  all  my  life  in  a  convent,  I  used 
to  think  that  maybe  I  could  go  to  the  mother-house 
in  Italy  for  a  while  some  day.  You  can't  realize, 
Peter  —  you,  who  have  lived  in  warm  countries  - 
how  I've  pined  for  warmth.  I've  never  been  warm 
enough,  never  in  my  life,  for  more  than  a  few  hours 
together.  Even  in  summer  it's  never  really  hot 
here,  never  hot  with  the  glorious  burning  heat  of  the 
sun  that  I  long  to  feel.  How  I  do  want  to  be  warm, 
all  through  my  veins.  I've  wanted  it  always.  Even 
at  the  most  sacred  hours,  when  I  ought  to  have 
forgotten  that  I  had  a  body,  I've  shivered  and 
yearned  to  be  warm  —  warm  to  the  heart.  I  shall 
go  to  Italy  and  bask  in  the  sun." 

"Marie  used  to  say  that,  too,  that  she  wanted  to 
be  warm,"  Peter  murmured  in  an  odd,  hesitating, 
shamefaced  way.  And  she  looked  at  the  novice 
intently,  as  she  had  looked  before.  Mary's  white 
cheeks  were  faintly  stained  with  rose,  and  her  eyes 
dilated.  Peter  had  never  seen  quite  the  same  ex- 
pression on  her  face,  or  heard  quite  the  same  ring  in 
her  voice.  The  girl  felt  that  the  different,  unknown 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       19 

self  she  had  spoken  of  was  beginning  already  to 
waken  and  stir  in  the  nun's  soul. 

"Marie!"  Sister  Rose  repeated.  "It's  odd  you 
should  have  spoken  of  Marie.  I've  been  thinking 
about  her  lately.  I  can't  get  her  out  of  my  head. 
And  I've  dreamed  of  seeing  her  —  meeting  her  un- 
expectedly somewhere." 

"Perhaps  she's  been  thinking  of  you,  wherever 
she  is,  and  you  feel  her  mind  calling  to  yours.  I 
believe  in  such  things,  don't  you?" 

"I  never  thought  much  about  them  before,  I  sup- 
pose because  I've  had  so  few  people  outside  who  were 
likely  to  think  of  me.  No  one  but  you.  Or  perhaps 
Marie,  if  she  ever  does  think  of  old  times.  I  wish 
I  could  meet  her,  not  in  dreams,  but  really." 

"Queerer  things  have  happened.  And  if  you're 
going  to  travel  you  can't  tell  but  you  may  run  across 
each  other,"  said  Peter.  "I've  sometimes  caught 
myself  wondering  whether  I  should  see  her  in 
New  York,  for  there  it's  like  London  and  Monte 
Carlo  —  the  most  unexpected  people  are  always 
turning  up." 

"Is  Monte  Carlo  like  that?"  Mary  asked,  with 
the  quick,  only  half-veiled  curiosity  which  Peter 
had  noticed  in  her  before  when  relating  her  own 
adventures  on  the  Riviera. 

"Yes.  More  than  any  other  place  I've  ever  been 
to  in  the  world.  Every  one  comes  —  anything  can 
happen  —  there.  But  I  don't  want  to  talk  about 
Monte  Carlo.  You  really  wouldn't  find  it  half  as 
interesting  as  your  beloved  Italy.  And  I  shouldn't 


20      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

like  to  think  of  poor  Marie  drifting  there,  either  — 
Marie  as  she  must  be  now." 

"I  used  to  hope,"  Mary  said,  "that  she  might 
come  back  here,  after  everything  turned  out  so 
dreadfully  for  her,  and  that  she'd  decide  to  take  the 
vows  with  me.  Reverend  Mother  would  have  wel- 
comed her  gladly,  in  spite  of  all.  She  loved  Marie. 
So  did  the  sisters;  and  though  none  of  them  ever 
talk  about  her  —  at  least,  to  me  —  I  feel  sure  they 
haven't  forgotten,  or  stopped  praying  for  her." 

"Do  you  suppose  they  guess  that  we  found  out 
what  really  happened  to  Marie,  after  she  ran  away?  " 
Peter  wanted  to  know. 

"I  hardly  think  so.  You  see,  we  couldn't  have 
found  out  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Janet  Churchill,  the 
one  girl  in  school  who  didn't  live  in  the  convent. 
And  Janet  wasn't  a  bit  the  sort  they  would  expect 
to  know  such  things." 

"Or  about  anything  else.  Her  stolidity  was  a 
very  useful  pose.  You'd  find  it  a  useful  one,  too, 
darling,  'out  in  the  world,'  as  you  call  it;  but  you'll 
never  be  clever  in  that  way,  I'm  afraid." 

"In  what  way?" 

"  In  hiding  things  you  feel.  Or  in  not  feeling  things 
that  are  uncomfortable  to  feel." 

"Don't  frighten  me!"  Mary  exclaimed.  They 
had  walked  to  the  end  of  the  path,  and  were  stand- 
ing by  the  sundial.  She  turned  abruptly,  and 
looked  with  a  certain  eagerness  toward  the  far-off 
fagade  of  the  convent,  with  its  many  windows.  On 
the  leaded  panes  of  those  in  the  west  wing  the  sun 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      21 

still  lingered,  and  struck  out  glints  as  of  rubies  in  a 
gold  setting.  All  the  other  windows  were  in  shadow 
now.  "We  must  go  in,"  Mary  said.  "Lady  Mac- 
Millan  will  be  coming  soon,  and  I  have  lots  to  do 
before  I  start." 

"What  have  you  to  do,  except  to  dress?" 

"Oh! — to  say  goodbye  to  them  all.  And  it 
seems  as  if  I  could  never  finish  saying  goodbye." 

Peter  did  not  meet  her  friend  again  after  they 
had  gone  into  the  house  until  Mary  had  laid  away 
the  habit  of  Sister  Rose  the  novice  and  put  on  the 
simple  gray  travelling  frock  in  which  Mary  Grant 
was  to  go  "out  into  the  world."  Peter  had  been 
extremely  curious  to  see  her  in  this,  for  it  was  three 
years  ago  and  more  since  she  had  last  had  a  sight 
of  Mary  in  "worldly  dress."  That  was  on  the  day 
when  Molly  Maxwell  had  left  the  convent  as  a 
schoolgirl,  to  go  back  to  America  with  her  father; 
and  almost  immediately  Mary  Grant  had  given  up 
such  garments,  as  she  thought  forever,  in  becoming 
a  postulant. 

Not  since  then  had  Peter  seen  Mary's  hair,  which 
by  this  time  would  have  been  cut  close  to  her  head 
if  she  had  not  suddenly  discovered,  just  in  time, 
that  she  had  "lost  her  vocation."  Mary  had 
beautiful  hair.  All  the  girls  in  school  had  admired 
it.  Peter  had  hated  to  think  of  its  being  cut  off; 
and  lately,  since  the  sudden  change  in  Mary's  mind, 
the  American  girl  had  wondered  if  the  peculiar, 
silvery  blond  had  darkened.  It  would  be  a  pity  if 
it  had,  for  her  hair  had  been  one  of  Mary's  chief 


22      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

beauties,  and  if  it  had  changed  she  would  not  be  as 
lovely  as  of  old,  particularly  as  she  had  lost  the 
brilliant  bloom  of  colour  she  had  had  as  a  schoolgirl, 
her  cheeks  becoming  white  instead  of  pink  roses. 

It  seemed  to  Peter  that  she  could  not  remember 
exactly  what  Mary  had  been  like,  in  those  first  days, 
for  the  novice's  habit  had  changed  her  so  strangely, 
seeming  to  chill  her  warm  humanity,  turning  a 
lovely,  glowing  young  girl  into  a  beautiful  marble 
saint.  But  under  the  marble,  warm  blood  had  been 
flowing,  and  a  hot,  rebellious  heart  throbbing,  after 
all.  Peter  delighted  in  knowing  that  this  was  true, 
though  she  was  anxious  about  the  statue  coming 
to  life  and  walking  out  of  its  sheltered  niche.  When 
she  was  called  to  say  goodbye  formally,  with  other 
friends  who  had  loved  Mary  as  schoolgirl  and  novice, 
Peter's  own  heart  was  beating  fast. 

The  instant  she  caught  sight  of  the  tall,  slight, 
youthful-looking  figure  in  gray,  the  three  years  fell 
away  like  a  crumbling  wall,  and  gave  back  the  days 
of  the  "three  Maries."  No,  the  silvery  blond  hair 
had  not  faded  or  lost  its  sparkle. 

Mary  Grant,  in  her  short  gray  skirt  and  coat,  with 
her  lovely  hair  in  an  awkwardly  done  clump  at  the 
nape  of  a  slender  neck,  looked  a  mere  schoolgirl. 
She  was  twenty-four,  and  nearing  her  twenty-fifth 
birthday.  Of  late,  she  had  had  anxieties  and  vigils, 
and  the  life  of  a  novice  of  Saint  Ursula-of-the-Lake 
was  not  lived  on  down  or  roses:  but  the  tranquil 
years  of  simple  food,  of  water-drinking,  of  garden- 
work,  of  quiet  thinking  and  praying  had  passed 


MARY   GRANT 


II 

LADY  MACMILLAN  of  Linlochtry  Castle,  who  was 
a  devout  Catholic,  came  often  from  her  place  in 
the  neighbourhood  to  see  her  half-sister,  Mother 
Superior  at  the  Convent  of  St.  Ursula-of-the-Lake. 
Mary  Grant's  only  knowledge  of  the  world  outside 
the  convent  had  been  given  her  by  Lady  Mac- 
Millan,  with  whom  when  a  schoolgirl  she  had  some- 
times spent  a  few  days,  and  might  have  stopped 
longer  if  she  had  not  invariably  been  seized  by  pangs 
of  homesickness.  Lady  MacMillan's  household,  to 
be  sure,  did  not  afford  many  facilities  for  forming  an 
opinion  of  the  world  at  large,  though  a  number  of 
carefully  selected  young  people  had  been  enter- 
tained for  Mary's  benefit.  Its  mistress  was  an 
elderly  widow,  and  had  been  elderly  when  the  child 
saw  her  first:  but  occasionally,  before  she  became  a 
postulant,  Mary  had  been  taken  to  Perth  to  help 
Lady  MacMillan  do  a  little  shopping;  and  once  she 
had  actually  stayed  from  Saturday  to  Tuesday  at 
Aberdeen,  where  she  had  been  to  the  theatre. 
This  was  a  memorable  event;  and  the  sisters  at  the 
convent  had  never  tired  of  hearing  the  fortunate  girl 
describe  her  exciting  experiences,  for  theirs  was  an 
enclosed  order,  and  it  was  years  since  most  of  them 
had  been  outside  the  convent  gates. 

25 


26      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Lady  MacMillan  was  a  large,  very  absent-minded 
and  extremely  near-sighted  lady,  like  her  half-sister, 
Mary's  adored  Reverend  Mother;  but  neither  so 
warm-hearted  nor  so  intelligent.  Still,  Mary  was 
used  to  this  old  friend,  and  fond  of  her  as  well.  It 
was  not  like  going  away  irrevocably  from  all  she 
knew  and  loved,  to  be  going  under  Lady  Mac- 
Millan's  wing.  Still,  she  went  weeping,  wondering 
how  she  had  ever  made  up  her  mind  to  the  step,  half 
passionately  grateful  to  Reverend  Mother  for  not 
being  angry  with  her  weakness  and  lack  of  faith,  half 
regretful  that  some  one  in  authority  had  not  thought 
it  right  to  hold  her  forcibly  back. 

There  was  no  railway  station  within  ten  miles  of 
the  old  convent  by  the  lake.  Lady  MacMillan 
came  from  her  little  square  box  of  a  castle  still  farther 
away,  in  the  old-fashioned  carriage  which  she  called 
a  "barouche,"  drawn  by  two  satin-smooth,  fat  ani- 
mals, more  like  tightly  covered  yet  comfortable 
brown  sofas  than  horses. 

It  was  a  great  excitement  for  Lady  MacMillan 
to  be  going  to  London,  and  a  great  exertion,  but  she 
did  not  grudge  trouble  for  Mary  Grant.  Not  that 
she  approved  of  the  girl's  leaving  the  convent.  It 
was  Reverend  Mother  who  had  to  persuade  her  half- 
sister  that,  if  Mary  had  not  the  vocation,  it  was  far 
better  that  she  should  read  her  own  heart  in  time, 
and  that  the  girl  was  taking  with  her  the  blessings 
and  prayers  of  all  those  who  had  once  hoped  to  keep 
their  dear  one  with  them  forever.  Still  it  was  the 
greatest  sensation  the  convent  had  known,  that 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       27 

Mary  should  be  going;  and  Reverend  Mother  would 
not  let  her  half-sister  even  mention,  in  that  con- 
nection, the  name  of  the  other  Mary  —  or  Marie  — 
Grant,  who  also  had  gone  away  sensationally.  The 
eldest  of  the  "three  Maries,"  the  three  prettiest, 
most  remarkable  girls  in  the  convent  school,  had 
left  mysteriously,  in  a  black  cloud  of  disgrace.  She 
had  run  off  to  join  a  lover  who  had  turned  out  to  be 
a  married  man,  unable  to  make  her  his  wife,  even  if 
he  wished;  and  sad,  vague  tidings  of  the  girl  had 
drifted  back  to  the  convent  since,  as  spray  from  the 
sea  is  blown  a  long  way  on  the  wind. 

Reverend  Mother  would  not  hear  Lady  Mac- 
Millan  say,  "Strange  that  the  two  Mary  Grants 
should  be  the  only  young  women  to  leave  you,  except 
in  the  ordinary  way,"  the  ordinary  way  being  the 
end  of  school  days  for  a  girl,  or  the  end  of  life  for  a 
nun. 

"I  want  dear  Mary  to  be  happy  in  the  manner 
that's  best  for  her,"  answered  the  good  woman, 
whose  outlook  was  very  wide,  though  her  orbit  was 
limited.  "If  it  had  been  best  for  Mary  to  stay  with 
us,  she  would  have  stayed;  or  else  some  day,  when  she 
has  learned  enough  to  know  that  the  world  can  be 
disappointing,  she  will  return.  If  that  day  ever 
comes,  she'll  have  a  warm  welcome,  and  it  will  be  a 
great  joy  to  us  all;  but  the  next  best  thing  will  be 
hearing  that  she  is  happy  in  her  new  life;  and  she 
promises  to  write  often."  Then  the  clever  lady  pro- 
ceeded to  ask  advice  about  Mary's  wardrobe. 
Should  the  girl  do  such  shopping  as  she  must  do  in 


28      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Aberdeen,  or  should  she  wait  and  trust  to  the  taste 
of  Mrs.  Home-Davis,  the  widowed  aunt  in  London, 
who  had  agreed  to  take  charge  of  her? 

The  question  had  fired  Lady  MacMillan  to  ex- 
citement, as  Reverend  Mother  knew  it  would.  Lady 
MacMillan  believed  that  she  had  taste  in  dress. 
She  was  entirely  mistaken  in  this  idea;  but  that  was 
not  the  point.  Nothing  so  entranced  her  as  to  give 
advice,  and  the  picture  of  an  unknown  aunt  choosing 
clothes  for  Mary  was  unbearable.  She  made  up 
her  mind  at  once  that  she  would  escort  her  young 
friend  to  London,  and  stay  long  enough  at  some  quiet 
hotel  in  Cromwell  Road  to  see  Mary  "settled." 
Mrs.  Home-Davis  lived  in  Cromwell  Road;  and  it 
was  an  extra  incentive  to  Lady  MacMillan  that  she 
would  not  be  too  far  from  the  Oratory. 

It  was  evening  when  the  two  arrived  at  King's 
Cross  Station,  after  the  longest  journey  Mary  had 
ever  made.  There  was  a  black  fog,  cold  and  heavy 
as  a  dripping  fur  coat.  Out  of  its  folds  loomed  motor 
omnibuses,  monstrous  mechanical  demons  such  as 
Mary  had  never  seen  nor  pictured.  The  noise  and 
rush  of  traffic  stunned  her  into  silence,  as  she  drove 
with  her  old  friend  in  a  four-wheeled  cab  toward 
Cromwell  Road.  There,  she  imagined,  would  be 
peace  and  quiet;  but  not  so.  They  stopped  before 
a  house,  past  which  a  wild  storm  of  motor-omnibuses 
and  vans  and  taxicabs  and  private  cars  swept  cease- 
lessly in  two  directions.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
Mary  that  people  could  live  in  such  a  place.  She 
was  supposed  to  stay  for  a  month  or  two  in  London, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       29 

and  then,  if  she  still  wished  to  see  Italy,  her  aunt 
and  cousin  would  make  it  convenient  to  go  with  her. 
But,  before  the  dark  green  door  behind  Corinthian 
pillars  had  opened,  the  girl  was  resolving  to  hurry 
out  of  London  somehow,  anyhow,  with  or  without 
her  relatives.  She  decided  this  with  the  singular, 
silent  intensity  of  purpose  that  she  did  not  even  know 
to  be  characteristic  of  herself,  though  it  had  carried 
her  through  a  severe  ordeal  at  the  convent;  for 
Mary  had  never  yet  studied  her  own  emotions  or  her 
own  nature.  The  instant  that  the  Home-Davises, 
mother  and  daughter,  greeted  her  in  their  chilly 
drawing-room,  she  lost  all  doubt  as  to  whether  she 
should  leave  London  with  or  without  them.  It 
would  be  without  them  that  she  must  go.  How  she 
was  to  contrive  this,  the  girl  did  not  know  in  the 
least,  but  she  knew  that  the  thing  would  have  to  be 
done.  She  could  not  see  Italy  in  the  company  of 
these  women. 

Suddenly  Mary  remembered  them  both  quite 
well,  though  they  had  not  met  since  a  visit  the  mother 
and  daughter  had  made  to  Scotland  when  she  was 
seven  years  old,  before  convent  days.  She  recalled 
her  aunt's  way  of  holding  out  a  hand,  like  an  offering 
of  cold  fish.  And  she  remembered  how  the  daughter 
was  patterned  after  the  mother:  large,  light  eyes, 
long  features  of  the  horse  type,  prominent  teeth,  thin, 
consciously  virtuous-looking  figure,  and  all  the  rest. 

They  had  the  sort  of  drawing-room  that  such 
women  might  be  expected  to  have,  of  the  coldest 
grays  and  greens,  with  no  individuality  of  decoration. 


30      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

The  whole  house  was  the  same,  cheerless  and  depress- 
ing even  to  those  familiar  with  London  in  a  Novem- 
ber fog,  but  blighting  to  one  who  knew  not  London 
in  any  weather.  Even  the  servants  seemed  cold, 
mechanical  creatures,  made  of  well-oiled  steel  or 
iron;  and  when  Lady  MacMillan  had  driven  off  to  a 
hotel,  Mary  cried  heartily  in  her  own  bleak  room, 
with  motor-omnibuses  roaring  and  snorting  under 
her  windows. 

At  dinner,  which  was  more  or  less  cold,  like  every- 
thing else,  there  was  talk  of  the  cousin  who  had  left 
Mary  a  legacy  of  fifty  thousand  pounds;  and  it  was 
easy  to  divine  in  tone,  if  not  in  words,  that  the 
Home-Davises  felt  deeply  aggrieved  because  the 
money  had  not  come  to  them.  This  cousin  had 
lived  in  the  Cromwell  Road  house  during  the  last 
invalid  years  of  her  life,  and  had  given  them  to 
understand  that  Elinor  was  to  have  almost,  if  not 
quite,  everything.  The  poor  lady  had  died,  it 
seemed,  in  the  room  which  Mary  now  occupied, 
probably  in  the  same  bed.  Mary  deeply  pitied  her 
if  she  had  been  long  in  dying.  The  wall-paper  was 
atrocious,  with  a  thousand  hideous  faces  to  be 
worried  out  of  it  by  tired  eyes.  The  girl  had  won- 
dered why  the  money  had  been  left  entirely  to  her, 
but  now  she  guessed  in  a  flash  why  the  Home- 
Davises  had  had  none  of  it.  The  years  in  this 
Cromwell  house  had  been  too  long. 

"We've  always  imagined  that  Cousin  Katherine 
must  have  been  in  love  with  your  father,  Uncle 
Basil,  before  he  married,"  said  Elinor,  when  they 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      31 

had  reached  the  heavy  stage  of  sweet  pudding; 
"and  when  the  will  was  read,  we  were  sure  of  it. 
For,  of  course,  mother  was  just  as  nearly  related  to 
her  as  uncle  Basil  was." 

It  was  difficult  for  Mary  to  realize  that  this  Aunt 
Sara  could  be  a  sister  of  the  handsome,  dark-faced 
man  with  burning  eyes  whose  features  had  remained 
cameo-clear  in  her  memory  since  childhood.  But 
Mrs.  Home-Davis  was  the  ugly  duckling  of  a  hand- 
some and  brilliant  family,  an  accident  of  fate 
which  had  embittered  her  youth,  and  indirectly  her 
daughter's. 

"How  shall  I  get  away  from  them?"  Mary  asked 
herself,  desperately,  that  night.  But  fate  was  fight- 
ing for  her  in  the  form  of  a  man  she  had  never  seen, 
a  man  not  even  in  London  at  the  moment. 

In  a  room  below  Mary's  Elinor  was  asking  Mrs. 
Home-Davis  how  they  could  get  rid  of  the  convent 
cousin. 

"She  won't  do,"  the  young  woman  said. 

"She  reminds  me  of  her  mother,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Home-Davis.  "I  thought  she  would  grow  up  like 
that." 

"Yet  there's  a  look  in  her  eyes  of  Uncle  Basil," 
Elinor  amended,  brushing  straight  hair  of  a  non- 
descript brown,  which  she  admired  because  it  was 
long. 

"With  such  a  combination  of  qualities  as  she'll 
probably  develop,  she'd  much  better  have  stayed 
in  her  convent,"  the  elder  woman  went  on. 

"I  wish  to  goodness  she  had,"  snapped  Elinor. 


32       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You  are  —  er  —  thinking  of  Doctor  Smythe, 
dear?" 

"Ye-es  —  partly,"  the  younger  admitted,  reluc- 
tantly; for  there  was  humiliation  to  her  vanity  in 
the  admission.  "Not  that  Arthur 'd  care  for  that 
type  of  girl,  particularly,  or  that  he'd  be  disloyal  to 
me  —  if  he  were  let  alone.  But  you  can  see  for 
yourself,  mother  —  is  she  the  kind  that  will  let  men 
alone?  At  dinner  she  made  eyes  even  at  the  foot- 
man. I  was  watching  her." 

"She  can't  have  met  any  men,  unless  at  that  old 
Scotchwoman's  house,"  replied  Mrs.  Home-Davis. 
"Perhaps  even  their  Romish  consciences  would 
have  forced  them  to  show  her  a  few,  before  she  took 
her  vows  —  Catholic  young  men,  of  course." 

"Perhaps  one  of  them  decided  her  to  break  the 
vows." 

"She  hasn't  really  broken  them,  you  know,  Elinor. 
We  must  be  just." 

"Well,  anyhow,  she  hasn't  the  air  of  an  engaged 
person.  And  if  she's  here  when  Arthur  gets  back 
to  London,  I  feel  in  my  bones,  mother,  there'll 
be  ructions." 

"Authur"  was  Doctor  Smythe,  a  man  not  very 
young,  whom  Elinor  Home-Davis  had  known  for 
some  time;  but  it  was  only  lately  that  she  had  begun 
to  hope  he  might  ask  her  to  marry  him.  She  valued 
him,  for  he  was  the  one  man  she  had  ever  succeeded 
in  attracting  seriously,  and  though  she  knew  he 
would  not  think  of  proposing  if  she  had  not  some 
money  which  would  be  helpful  in  his  career,  she  was 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      33 

eager  to  accept  him.  Had  she  realized  sooner  that 
there  was  a  chance  with  Arthur  Smythe,  she 
would  not  have  let  her  mother  make  that  promise 
concerning  Italy,  for  she  could  not  be  left  alone  in 
London  all  winter.  Arthur  Smythe  would  think 
that  too  strange;  yet  now  she  would  not  go  out  of 
England  for  anything.  He  was  in  Paris  attending  a 
medical  congress,  and  planned  afterward  to  visit  the 
chateaux  country  with  a  friend;  but  he  would  be 
back  in  two  or  three  weeks.  Now  that  Elinor  had 
seen  Mary,  she  felt  that  changes  must  be  made 
quickly.  In  other  circumstances,  it  would  have 
been  pleasant  to  loiter  about  Italy,  stopping  at  the 
best  hotels  at  Mary's  expense,  on  money  that  ought 
to  have  been  the  Home-Davises;  but  as  it  was, 
Elinor  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  to 
send  Mary  off  by  herself,  in  a  hurry.  Or,  as  Mrs. 
Home-Davis  said,  "some  one  suitable"  might  be 
travelling  at  the  right  time,  and  they  could  perhaps 
find  an  excuse  for  stopping  at  home  themselves. 

"You  can  be  ill,  if  necessary,"  suggested  Elinor. 

"Yes,  I  can  be  ill,  if  necessary  —  or  you  can," 
replied  her  mother. 

Mary  had  not  known  that  there  could  be  such 
noise  in  the  world  as  the  noise  of  London.  She  did 
not  sleep  that  night;  and  the  fog  was  blacker  than 
ever  in  the  morning.  Shopping  had  to  be  put  off 
for  three  days;  and  then  Lady  MacMillan  was  too 
near-sighted  and  too  absent-minded  to  be  of  much 
use.  She  was  telegraphed  for  from  her  box  of  a 
castle,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  because  her  house- 


34      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

keeper  was  ailing  —  an  old  woman  who  was  almost 
as  much  friend  as  servant.  Mary  would  have  given 
anything  to  return  with  her,  even  if  to  go  back  must 
mean  retiring  into  the  convent  forever;  but  the  gate 
of  the  past  had  gently  shut  behind  her.  She  could 
not  knock  upon  it  for  admittance,  at  least  not  until 
she  had  walked  farther  along  the  path  of  the  future. 
When  Lady  MacMillan  had  gone,  Mrs.  Home- 
Davis  and  Elinor  showed  no  interest  in  the  convent 
cousin.  They  went  about  their  own  concerns  as  if 
she  did  not  exist,  leaving  her  to  go  about  hers,  if 
she  chose.  They  were  both  interested,  they  ex- 
plained, in  the  Suffragist  movement;  also  they  had 
charities  to  look  after.  There  was  no  time  to  bother 
with  Mary's  shopping,  but  of  course  she  could  have 
their  maid,  Jennings,  to  go  out  with:  in  fact,  she 
must  not  attempt  to  go  alone.  Consequently,  Mary 
bought  only  necessaries,  in  the  big,  confusing  shops 
that  glared  white  in  the  foggy  twilight,  for  Jennings 
as  a  companion  was  more  depressing  than  the  cold. 
She  was  middle-aged,  very  pinched  and  respectable 
in  appearance,  with  a  red  nose,  always  damp  at  the 
end;  and  she  disapproved  of  lace  and  ribbons  on 
underclothing.  Mrs.  Home-Davis  and  Miss  Elinor 
would  never  think  of  buying  such  things  as  Miss 
Grant  admired.  Jennings  would  have  pioneered 
Miss  Grant  to  the  British  and  South  Kensington 
museums  if  Miss  Grant  had  wished  to  go,  but  Mary 
had  no  appetite  for  museums  in  the  dark  and  for- 
bidding November,  which  was  the  worst  that  Lon- 
don had  known  for  years.  Her  aunt  never  sug- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      35 

gested  a  theatre,  or  the  opera,  or  anything  which 
Mary  was  likely  to  find  amusing,  for  a  plan  decided 
upon  with  Elinor  was  being  faithfully  carried  out. 
The  convent  cousin  was  to  be  disgusted  with  Crom- 
well Road,  and  bored  with  London,  so  that  she 
might  be  ready  to  snatch  at  the  first  excuse  to  get 
away.  And  once  away,  Mrs.  Home-Davis  promised 
Elinor  to  find  some  pretext  for  refusing  to  receive 
her  back  again. 

The  plan  succeeded  perfectly,  though,  had  the 
ladies  but  guessed,  no  complicated  manoeuvres 
would  have  been  necessary,  Mary  having  deter- 
mined upon  escape  in  the  moment  of  arrival.  She 
was  shut  up  in  her  room  for  a  few  days  with  a  cold, 
after  she  had  been  a  week  in  Cromwell  Road,  and 
when  she  was  let  out,  after  all  danger  of  infection  for 
her  relatives  had  passed,  she  dared  to  propose  Italy 
as  a  cure  for  herself. 

"I  know  you  have  important  engagements," 
Mary  said,  hastily,  "and  of  course  you  couldn't  go 
with  me  at  such  short  notice;  but  I  don't  feel  as  if 
I  could  wait.  I  may  be  ill  on  your  hands.  I  feel 
as  if  I  should  be,  unless  I  run  away  where  it's  warm 
and  bright." 

Mrs.  Home-Davis,  much  as  she  wanted  to  take 
the  girl  at  her  word,  could  not  resist  retorting: 
"It's  not  very  bright  and  warm  in  Scotland  at  this 
time  of  year,  yet  you  don't  seem  to  have  been  ill 
there." 

Mary  could  have  replied  that  in  the  convent  she 
had  had  the  warmth  and  brightness  of  love,  but  she 


36      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

merely  mumbled  that  she  had  often  taken  cold  in 
the  autumn. 

"It  will  be  impossible  for  us  to  leave  home  at 
present,"  her  aunt  went  on.  "If  you're  deter- 
mined to  go,  I  must  get  you  some  one  to 
travel  with,  or  you  must  have  an  elderly  maid- 
companion.  Perhaps  that  would  be  best.  One 
can't  always  find  friends  travelling  at  the  time 
they're  wanted." 

"Mary  isn't  such  a  baby  that  she  ought  to  need 
looking  after,"  said  Elinor.  "She's  nearly  twenty- 
five  —  as  old  as  I  am  —  and  you  don't  mind  my 
going  to  Exeter  alone." 

Elinor  was  twenty-eight.  When  she  was  a  child 
she  had  assumed  airs  of  superiority  on  the  strength 
of  her  age,  Mary  remembered,  but  now  she  and  her 
cousin  seemed  suddenly  to  match  their  years. 
Mary  was  glad  of  this,  however,  and  bolstered 
Elinor's  argument  by  admitting  her  own  maturity. 
"I  don't  want  a  companion-maid,  please,"  she  said, 
with  the  mingling  of  meekness  and  violent  resolution 
which  had  ended  her  novitiate.  "It  will  be  better 
for  my  Italian,  to  get  one  in  Italy.  I  shall  be  safe 
*  alone  till  I  arrive.  You  see,  Reverend  Mother  has 
given  me  a  letter  to  the  Superior  in  the  mother-house, 
and  other  letters,  too.  I  shall  have  friends  in  Flor- 
ence and  Rome,  and  lots  of  places." 

"But  it  wouldn't  look  well  for  you  to  travel  alone," 
Mrs.  Home-Davis  objected. 

"Nobody  will  be  looking  at  me.  Nobody  will 
know  who  I  am,"  Mary  argued.  Then,  desperately, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      37 

"Rather  than  you  should  find  me  a  companion, 
Aunt  Sara,  I  won't  go  to  Italy  at  all.  I " 

She  could  have  chosen  no  more  efficacious  threat; 
though  if  she  had  been  allowed  to  finish  her  sentence, 
she  would  have  added,  "I'll  go  back  to  Scotland  to 
Lady  MacMillan's,  or  stay  in  the  convent." 

Thus  the  sting  would  have  lost  its  venom  for  the 
Home-Davises,  but  Elinor,  fearing  disaster,  cut  the 
sentence  short.  "Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  mother,  let 
Mary  have  her  own  way,"  she  broke  in.  "You  can 
see  she  means  to  in  the  end,  so  why  disturb  your- 
self? Nothing  can  happen  to  her." 

Elinor's  eyes  anxiously  recalled  to  her  mother  a 
letter  that  had  come  from  Doctor  Smythe  that 
morning  announcing  his  return  at  the  end  of  the 
week.  It  was  providential  that  Mary  should  have 
proposed  going,  as  it  would  have  been  awkward 
otherwise  to  get  her  out  of  the  house  in  time;  and 
Elinor  was  anxious  that  she  should  be  taken  at  her 
word. 

"It's  more  of  appearances  than  danger  that  I'm 
thinking,"  Mrs.  Home-Davis  explained,  retiring 
slowly,  face  to  the  enemy,  yet  with  no  real  desire  to 
win  the  battle.  "Perhaps  if  I  write  Mrs.  Larkin  in 
Florence  —  a  nice,  responsible  woman  —  to  find  a 
family  for  you  to  stay  with,  it  may  do.  Only  in 
that  case,  you  mustn't  stop  before  you  get  to  Flor- 
ence. I'll  buy  your  ticket  straight  through,  by  the 
Mont  Cenis." 

"No,  please,"  Mary  protested,  mildly.  "Not 
that  way.  I've  set  my  heart  on  going  along  the 


38      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Riviera,,  not  to  stop  anywhere,  but  to  see  the  coast 
from  the  train.  It  must  be  so  lovely:  and  after  this 
blackness  to  see  the  blue  Mediterranean,  and  the 
flowers,  and  oranges,  and  the  red  rocks  that  run  out 
into  the  sea;  it's  a  dream  of  joy  to  think  of  it.  I've 
a  friend  who  has  been  twice  with  her  father.  She 
told  me  so  much  about  the  Riviera.  It  can't  be 
much  farther  than  the  other  way." 

So  it  was  settled,  after  some  perfunctory  ob- 
jections on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Home-Davis,  who  wished 
it  put  on  record  that  she  had  been  overruled  by 
Mary's  obstinacy.  If  undesirable  incidents  should 
happen,  she  wanted  to  say,  "Mary  would  go  by  her- 
self, without  waiting  for  me.  She's  of  age,  and  I 
couldn't  coerce  her." 


m 

MARY  felt  like  an  escaped  prisoner  as  the  train 
began  to  move  out  of  Victoria  Station  —  the  train 
which  was  taking  her  toward  France  and  Italy. 
It  was  like  passing  through  a  great  gray  gate,  labeled 
"This  way  to  warmth  and  sunshine  and  beauty." 
Already,  though  the  gate  itself  was  not  beautiful, 
Mary  seemed  to  see  through  it,  far  ahead,  vistas  of 
lovely  places  to  which  it  opened.  She  sat  calmly, 
as  the  moving  carriage  rescued  her  from  Aunt  Sara 
and  Elinor  on  the  platform,  but  her  hands  were 
locked  tightly  inside  the  five-year-old  squirrel  muff, 
which  would  have  been  given  away,  with  everything 
of  hers,  if  Sister  Rose  had  not  changed  a  certain 
decision  at  the  eleventh  hour.  She  was  quivering 
with  excitement  and  the  wild  sense  of  freedom  which 
she  had  not  tasted  in  London. 

In  leaving  the  convent  she  had  not  felt  this  sense 
of  escaping,  for  the  convent  had  been  "home,'*  the 
goodbyes  had  drowned  her  in  grief,  and  she  had 
often  before  driven  off  with  Lady  MacMillan,  in  the 
springy  barouche  behind  the  fat  horses.  Even  the 
journey  to  London  had  not  given  her  the  thrill  she 
hoped  for,  as  rain  had  fallen  heavily,  blotting  out  the 
landscape.  Besides,  she  had  even  then  regarded 
her  stay  in  London  with  the  Home-Davises  only  as 

39 


40       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

a  stage  on  the  journey  which  was  eventually  to  lead 
her  into  warmth  and  sunlight. 

This  train,  with  the  foreign-looking  people  who 
rushed  about  chattering  French  and  German,  Ital- 
ian and  Arabic  on  the  platform  and  in  the  corridors, 
seemed  to  link  London  mysteriously  with  other  lands. 
Even  the  strong,  active  porters,  who  sprang  at  huge 
trunks  piled  on  cabs,  and  carried  them  off  to  the 
weighing-room,  were  different  from  other  porters, 
more  important,  part  of  a  great  scheme,  and  their 
actions  added  to  her  excitement.  She  liked  the 
way  that  an  alert  guard  put  her  into  her  compart- 
ment, as  if  he  were  posting  a  letter  in  a  hurry,  and 
had  others  to  post.  Then  the  great  and  sudden 
bustle  of  the  train  going  out  made  her  heart  beat. 

Mary  had  been  brought  to  the  station  early,  for 
Elinor  had  been  nervous  lest  she  might  miss  the 
train,  and  Doctor  Smythe  was  coming  at  four  o'clock 
that  afternoon.  But  others  who  were  to  share  the 
compartment  were  late.  It  was  violently  exciting 
to  have  them  dash  in  at  the  last  moment,  and  dis- 
pose of  bags  and  thick  rugs  in  straps  to  be  used  on 
the  Channel. 

They  were  two,  mother  and  daughter  perhaps;  a 
delicate  birdlike  girl  and  a  plump  middle-aged 
woman  with  an  air  of  extreme  self-satisfaction. 

In  themselves  they  did  not  appear  interesting, 
but  Mary  was  interested,  and  wondered  where  they 
were  going.  When  they  took  out  fashion-papers 
and  sixpenny  novels,  however,  she  felt  that  they 
were  no  longer  worth  attention.  How  could  they 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      41 

read,  when  they  were  saying  goodbye  to  England, 
and  when  each  minute  the  windows  framed  charm- 
ing pictures  of  skimming  Kentish  landscape?  The 
strangely  shaped  oast-houses  puzzled  Mary.  She 
longed  to  ask  what  they  were,  but  the  woman  and 
the  girl  seemed  absorbed  in  their  books  and  papers. 
Mary  thought  they  must  be  dull  and  stupid;  but 
suddenly  it  came  to  her  that  to  many  people,  these 
among  others,  maybe,  this  journey  was  a  common- 
place, everyday  affair.  Even  going  to  France  or 
Italy  might  not  be  to  them  a  high  adventure.  Ex- 
traordinary to  reflect  that  all  over  the  world  men 
and  women  were  travelling,  going  to  wonderful  new 
places,  seeing  wonderful  new  things,  and  taking  it 
as  a  matter  of  course! 

She  had  never  seen  the  sea;  and  when  the  billow- 
ing fields  and  neat  hedges  changed  to  chalky  downs, 
a  sudden  whiff  of  salt  on  the  air  blowing  through  a 
half-open  window  made  her  heart  leap.  She  nearly 
cried,  "The  sea!"  but  controlled  herself  because  of 
her  prim  fellow-passengers. 

Mary  would  have  been  surprised  if  she  had  known 
their  real  feelings  toward  her,  which  were  not  as 
remote  as  she  supposed. 

She  looked,  they  both  thought,  like  a  schoolgirl 
going  abroad  for  her  Christmas  holidays,  only  it  was 
early  for  holidays :  but  if  she  were  a  schoolgirl  it  was 
strange  that  she  should  be  travelling  alone.  Her 
furs  were  old-fashioned  and  inexpensive,  her  gray 
tweed  dress  plain  and  without  style,  her  hat  had  a 
home-made  air,  but  from  under  the  short  skirt 


42      THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

peeped  smart  patent-leather  shoes  with  silver 
buckles  and  pointed  toes,  and  there  was  a  glimpse  of 
silk  stockings  thin  as  a  mere  polished  film.  A 
schoolgirl  would  not  be  allowed  to  have  such  shoes 
and  stockings,  which,  in  any  case,  were  most  un- 
suited  to  travelling.  (Poor  Mary  had  not  known 
this,  in  replacing  the  convent  abominations  which 
had  struck  Peter  as  pathetic;  and  Mrs.  Home-Davis 
had  not  troubled  to  tell  her);  nor  would  a  school- 
girl be  likely  to  have  delicate  gray  suede  gloves,  with 
many  buttons,  or  a  lace  handkerchief  like  a  morsel 
of  seafoam.  These  oddities  in  Mary's  toilet,  due 
to  her  inexperience  and  untutored  shopping,  puzzled 
her  companions;  and  often,  while  she  supposed  them 
occupied  with  the  fashions,  they  were  stealing  furtive 
glances  at  her  clear,  saintly  profile,  the  full  rose-red 
lips  which  contradicted  its  austerity,  and  the  spark- 
ling waves  of  hair  meekly  drawn  down  over  the 
small  ears.  Her  rapt  expression,  also,  piqued  their 
curiosity. 

They  were  inclined  to  believe  it  a  pose,  put  on  to 
attract  attention;  and  though  they  could  not  help 
acknowledging  her  beauty,  they  were  far  from  sure 
that  she  was  a  person  to  be  approved.  At  one 
instant  the  mother  of  the  birdlike  girl  fancied  her 
neighbour  a  child.  The  next,  she  was  sure  that  the 
stranger  was  much  more  mature  than  she  looked,  or 
wished  to  look.  And  when,  on  leaving  the  train  at 
Dover,  Mary  spoke  French  to  a  young  Frenchman 
in  difficulties  with  an  English  porter,  the  doubting 
hearts  of  her  fellow-travellers  closed  against  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      43 

offender.  With  an  accent  like  that,  this  was  cer- 
tainly not  her  first  trip  abroad,  they  decided.  With 
raised  eyebrows  they  telegraphed  each  other  that 
they  would  not  be  surprised  if  she  had  an  extremely 
intimate  knowledge  of  Paris  and  Parisian  ways. 

Even  the  Frenchman  she  befriended  was  un- 
grateful enough  not  to  know  quite  what  to  think  of 
Mary.  He  raised  his  hat,  and  gave  her  a  look  of 
passionate  gratitude,  in  case  anything  were  to  be 
got  by  it:  but  the  deep  meaning  of  the  gaze  was  lost 
on  the  lately  emancipated  Sister  Rose.  She  blushed, 
because  it  happened  to  be  the  first  time  she  had  ever 
spoken  to  a  young  man  unchaperoned  by  Lady 
MacMillan:  but  she  was  regarding  him  as  a  fellow- 
being,  and  remembering  that  she  had  been  instructed 
to  seize  any  chance  of  doing  a  kindness,  no  matter 
how  small.  She  had  never  been  told  that  it  was  not 
always  safe  for  a  girl  to  treat  a  Frenchman  as  a 
fellow-being. 

Afterward,  on  the  boat,  when  a  porter  had  placed 
her  in  a  sheltered  deck-seat  with  a  curved  top,  the 
fellow-being  ventured  again  to  thank  the  English 
Mees  for  coming  to  his  rescue.  It  was  a  pleasure  to 
Mary  to  speak  French,  which  had  been  taught  her 
by  Sister  Marie-des-Anges,  a  French  nun  from 
Paris;  and  she  and  the  young  man  plunged  into  an 
animated  conversation.  Her  travelling  compan- 
ions had  chairs  on  deck  not  far  off,  and  they  knew 
what  to  think  of  the  mystery  now.  They  were  on 
the  way  to  Mentone,  but  as  they  intended  stopping 
a  day  in  Paris,  and  going  on  by  a  cheaper  train  than 


44      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  train  de  luxe,  Mary  did  not  see  them  again  dur- 
ing the  journey. 

She  was  unconscious  of  anything  in  her  appear- 
ance or  conduct  to  arouse  disapproval.  Her  one 
regret  concerning  the  thin  silk  stockings  and  delicate 
shoes  (which  she  had  bought  because  they  were 
pretty)  was  that  her  ankles  were  cold.  She  had  no 
rug;  but  the  Frenchman  insisted  on  lending  her  his, 
tucking  it  round  her  knees  and  under  her  feet.  Then 
she  was  comfortable,  and  even  more  grateful  to 
him  than  he  had  been  to  her  for  translating  him 
to  the  porter.  He  was  dark  and  thin,  cynically 
intelligent  looking,  of  a  type  new  to  Mary;  and  she 
thanked  him  for  being  disappointed  that  she  could 
not  stop  in  Paris.  He  inquired  if,  by  chance,  she 
were  going  to  Monte  Carlo.  When  she  said  no,  she 
was  passing  on  much  farther,  he  was  again  dis- 
appointed, because,  being  an  artist,  he  often  ran 
down  to  Monte  Carlo  himself  in  the  winter,  and  it 
would  have  been  a  great  privilege  to  renew  acquain- 
tance with  so  charming  an  English  lady. 

Mary  had  feared  that  she  might  be  ill  in  crossing 
the  Channel,  as  she  had  never  been  on  the  water 
before,  and  could  not  know  whether  she  were  a  good 
or  a  bad  sailor.  Aunt  Sara  and  Elinor  had  told  her 
unpleasant  anecdotes  of  voyages;  but  when  Dover 
Castle  on  its  gray  height,  and  white  Shakespeare 
Cliff  with  its  memories  of  "Lear,"  had  faded  from  her 
following  eyes,  still  she  would  hardly  have  known 
that  the  vessel  was  moving.  The  purring  turbines 
scarcely  thrilled  the  deck;  and  presently  Mary  ate 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      45 

sandwiches  and  drank  a  decoction  of  coffee, 
brought  by  her  new  friend.  He  laughed  when  she 
started  at  a  mournful  hoot  of  the  siren,  and  was 
enormously  interested  to  hear  that  she  had  never 
set  eyes  upon  the  sea  until  to-day.  Mademoiselle, 
for  such  an  ingenue,  was  very  courageous,  he  thought, 
and  looked  at  Mary  closely;  but  her  eyes  wandered 
from  him  to  the  phantom-shapes  that  loomed  out  of 
a  pale,  wintry  mist:  tramps  thrashing  their  way  to 
the  North  Sea:  a  vast,  distant  liner  with  tiers  of  decks 
one  above  the  other:  a  darting  torpedo-destroyer 
which  flashed  by  like  a  streak  of  foam. 

Everything  was  so  interesting  that  Mary  would 
far  rather  not  have  had  to  talk,  but  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  school  of  old-fashioned  courtesy. 
To  her,  a  failure  in  politeness  would  have  been 
almost  a  crime:  and  as  the  sisters  had  never 
imagined  the  possibility  of  her  talking  with  a 
strange  young  man,  they  had  not  cautioned  her 
against  doing  so. 

She  had  meant  to  scribble  a  few  notes  of  her  im- 
pressions during  the  journey,  for  the  benefit  of 
Reverend  Mother  and  the  nuns,  posting  her  letter 
in  Paris;  but  as  the  Frenchman  appeared  surprised 
at  her  travelling  alone,  and  everybody  else  seemed 
to  be  with  friends,  she  decided  not  to  write  until 
Florence.  There,  when  she  could  say  that  she  had 
reached  her  journey's  end  safely,  she  might  confess 
that  she  had  left  London  without  her  relatives  or 
even  the  companion-maid  they  advised. 

"If  Reverend  Mother  saw  Aunt  Sara,  even  for 


46      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

five  minutes,"  Mary  said  to  herself,  "she  couldn't 
blame  me." 

As  it  happened,  there  had  been  such  a  rush  at  the 
last,  after  the  great  decision  was  made,  that  Mary 
had  not  written  to  the  convent.  She  had  only 
telegraphed:  "Leaving  at  once  for  Florence.  Will 
write." 

She  was  hoping  that  Reverend  Mother  would  not 
scold  her  for  what  she  had  done,  when  suddenly 
another  cliff,  white  as  the  cliffs  of  Dover,  glimmered 
through  the  haze.  Then  she  forgot  her  sackcloth, 
for,  according  to  the  Frenchman,  this  was  old 
Grisnez,  pushing  its  inquiring  nose  into  the  sea;  and 
beyond  loomed  the  tall  lighthouse  of  Calais. 

It  was  absurdly  wonderful  on  landing  at  Calais 
to  hear  every  one  talking  French.  Of  course,  Mary 
had  known  that  it  would  be  so,  but  actually  to  hear 
it,  and  to  think  that  these  people  had  spoken  French 
since  they  .were  babies,  was  ridiculously  nice.  She 
felt  rewarded  for  all  the  pains  she  had  taken  to 
learn  verbs  and  acquire  exactly  the  right  accent; 
and  she  half  smiled  in  a  friendly  way  at  the  dark 
porters  in  their  blue  blouses,  and  at  the  toylike 
policemen  with  their  swords  and  capes.  Her 
porter  was  a  cross-looking,  elderly  man,  but  at  the 
smile  she  had  for  him  he  visibly  softened;  and,  with 
her  dressing-bag  slung  by  a  strap  over  his  broad 
shoulder,  made  an  aggressive  shield  of  his  stout 
body  to  pilot  her  through  the  crowd. 

Now  she  left  behind  the  two  Englishwomen  and 
her  French  acquaintance,  for  she  was  a  passenger  in 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      47 

the  luxe,  which  started  earlier  than  the  ordinary 
first-class  train  for  Paris.  The  Frenchman  hoped 
and  believed  that  she  would  regret  his  society,  but 
she  forgot  him  before  the  train  went  out,  having  no 
premonition  of  any  future  meeting. 

This,  then,  was  what  they  called  a  wagon  lit! 
She  was  delighted  with  her  quarters,  supposing,  as 
the  compartment  seemed  small,  that  it  was  entirely 
for  her  use  during  the  journey.  She  had  been  told 
that  she  would  be  provided  with  a  bed,  and  she 
wondered  how  it  was  to  be  arranged. 

Darkness  fell  over  France,  but  Mary  felt  that  she 
could  see  through  the  black  veil,  away  to  the  south, 
where  roses  were  budding  in  warm  sunshine.  She 
was  whole-heartedly  glad,  for  the  first  time,  to  be 
out  of  the  convent. 

If  it  had  not  been  winter  and  night,  she  would 
perhaps  have  longed  to  stop  in  Paris,  but  the  sight  of 
the  great  bleak  Gare  du  Nord  chilled  her.  The 
ordeal  of  the  douane  had  to  be  gone  through  there, 
and  Mary  was  glad  when  it  was  over,  and  she  could 
go  on  again,  though  she  was  once  more  protected 
by  a  gallant  porter;  and  a  youngish  official  of  the 
customs,  after  a  glance  at  her  face,  quickly  marked 
crosses  on  her  luggage  without  opening  it.  Other 
women,  older  and  not  attractive,  saw  this  favourit- 
ism, and  swelled  with  resentment,  as  Elinor  Home- 
Davis  had  when  saying: 

"Is  she  the  kind  who  can  ever  let  men  alone? 
She  makes  eyes  at  the  footman!" 

Mary    had    never    heard     of    "making    eyes." 


48      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

One  did  not  use  these  vulgar  expressions  at  the 
convent.  But  Peter  would  have  known  what  Elinor 
meant;  and  even  Reverend  Mother  knew  instinct- 
ively that,  if  Mary  Grant  went  out  into  the  world, 
she  would  unconsciously  influence  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 
as  the  moon  influences  the  tides.  And  Reverend 
Mother  would  have  felt  it  safer  for  just  such  crea- 
tures as  Mary  to  live  out  their  lives  in  the  shelter  of 
a  convent.  But  Mary  thought  only  how  kind 
Frenchmen  even  of  the  lower  classes  were,  and 
wondered  if  those  of  other  nations  were  as  polite. 
Slowly  the  train  took  her  round  Paris,  and,  after 
what  seemed  a  long  time,  stopped  in  another  huge 
station,  which  shivered  under  a  white,  crude  flood 
of  electric  light.  Its  name  —  Gare  du  Lyon  — 
sounded  warm,  however,  and  sent  her  fancy  flying 
southward  again.  She  was  growing  impatient  to 
get  on  when,  to  her  surprise,  a  porter  hovering  in  the 
corridor  with  a  large  dressing-bag  plumped  it  into 
the  rack  beside  her  own.  Mary  started.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  any  one  else  had  a  right  to  come  in 
with  her? 

The  question  was  answered  by  the  appearance  of 
a  marvellous  lady  who  followed  the  porter.  "Which 
of  us  is  here?"  she  asked.  "Oh,  it's  you,  Mrs. 
Collis!  That's  your  bag,  I  think." 

She  spoke  like  an  Englishwoman,  yet  there  was  a 
faint  roll  of  the  "r"  suggestive  of  foreign  birth  or 
education.  Mary  had  never  seen  any  one  like  her 
before.  She  was  unusually  tall,  as  tall  as  a  man  of 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      49 

good  height,  and  her  figure  was  magnificent.  Evi- 
dently she  was  not  ashamed  of  her  stature,  for  her 
large  black  hat  had  upstanding  white  wings,  and 
her  heels  were  high.  Her  navy  blue  cloth  dress 
braided  with  black  that  had  threads  of  gold  here 
and  there  was  made  to  show  her  form  to  the  best 
advantage.  Mary  had  not  known  that  hair  could 
be  as  black  as  the  heavy  waves  which  melted  into 
the  black  velvet  of  the  hat.  The  level  brows  over 
the  long  eyes  were  equally  black,  and  so  were  the 
thick  short  lashes.  Between  these  inky  lines  the 
eyes  themselves  were  as  coldly  gray  and  empty  as 
a  northern  sea,  yet  they  were  attractive,  if  only  by 
an  almost  sinister  contrast.  The  skin  was  extra- 
ordinarily white,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  Mary  that 
Nature  alone  had  not  whitened  it,  or  reddened  the 
large  scarlet  mouth.  Women  did  not  paint  at  the 
convent,  nor  did  Lady  MacMillan's  guests.  Mary 
did  not  know  anything  about  paint.  She  thought  the 
newcomer  very  handsome,  yet  somehow  formidable. 
In  a  moment  other  people  trooped  into  the  cor- 
ridor and  grouped  round  the  door  of  Mary's  com- 
partment. There  was  a  wisp  of  a  woman  with  neat 
features  and  sallow  complexion,  who  looked  the 
essence  of  respectability  combined  with  a  small, 
tidy  intelligence.  She  was  in  brown  from  head  to 
foot,  and  her  hair  was  brown,  too,  where  it  was  not 
turning  gray.  Evidently  she  was  Mrs.  Collis,  for 
she  took  a  lively  interest  in  the  bag,  and  said  she 
must  have  it  down,  as  the  stupid  people  had  put  it 
wrong  side  up.  She  spoke  like  an  American,  though 


50      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

not  with  the  delicately  sweet  drawl  that  Peter  had. 
Behind  her  stood  a  pretty  girl  whose  features  were 
neatly  cut  out  on  somewhat  the  same  design,  and 
whose  eyes  and  hair  were  of  the  same  neutral  brown. 
She  had  a  waist  of  painful  slenderness,  and  she 
reminded  Mary  of  a  charming  wren.  Behind  her 
came  another  girl,  older  and  of  a  different  type,  with 
hair  yellow  as  a  gold  ring,  round  eyes  of  opaque, 
turquoise  blue,  without  expression,  and  complexion 
of  incredible  pink  and  white.  Her  lips,  too,  were 
extremely  pink,  and  her  brows  and  lashes  almost 
as  black  as  those  of  the  tall  woman.  She  wore  pale 
purple  serge,  with  a  hat  to  match,  and  had  a  big 
bunch  of  violets  pinned  on  a  fur  stole  which  was 
bobbing  and  pulsing  with  numberless  tiny,  grinning 
heads  of  dead  animals.  On  her  enormous  muff  were 
more  of  these  animals,  and  tucked  under  one  arm 
appeared  a  miniature  dog  with  a  ferocious  face.  In 
the  wake  of  these  ladies  who  surged  round  the  door 
and  sent  forth  waves  of  perfume,  presently  arrived 
a  man  who  joined  them  as  if  reluctantly,  and  because 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  do. 

He  was  much  taller  than  the  woman  who  had  come 
first,  and  must  have  been  well  over  six  feet.  His 
clean-shaven,  aquiline  face  was  of  a  dead  pallor. 
There  were  dark  shadows  and  a  disagreeable  fulness 
under  his  gray,  wistful  eyes,  which  seemed  to  appeal 
for  help  without  any  hope  of  receiving  it.  He 
walked  wearily  and  slouchingly,  stooping  a  little,  as 
if  he  were  too  tired  or  bored  to  take  the  trouble  of 
throwing  back  his  shoulders. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      51 

The  ladies  talked  together,  very  fast,  all  but  the 
tall  one,  who,  though  she  talked  also,  did  not  chatter 
as  the  others  did,  but  spoke  slowly,  in  a  low  tone 
which  must  be  listened  to,  or  it  could  not  be  heard. 
The  four  laughed  a  good  deal,  and  when  the  tall 
woman  smiled  she  lost  something  of  her  fascination, 
for  she  had  large,  slightly  prominent  eye-teeth  which 
went  far  to  spoil  her  handsome  red  mouth.  The 
others  paid  great  attention  to  her,  and  to  the  big 
man  with  the  sad  eyes.  In  loud  voices,  as  if  they 
wished  people  to  hear,  they  constantly  addressed 
these  two  as  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey. 

"I  —  are  you  quite  sure  that  you're  to  be  here?" 
Mary  ventured,  when  Mrs.  Collis  had  whisked  into 
the  compartment,  and  was  ringing  for  some  one  to 
take  down  her  bag,  after  the  train  had  started.  "I 
thought  —  I  had  this  place  to  myself." 

"Why,  if  you  have,  there  must  be  a  mistake," 
replied  the  American.  "Have  you  taken  both 
berths?" 

"No,"  said  Mary.     "Only  one.     Are  there  two?" 

"My,  yes,  of  course.  In  some  there  are  four. 
But  this  is  one  of  the  little  ones.  I  expect"  —  and 
she  smiled  —  "that  you  haven't  made  many  long 
journeys?" 

"I  haven't  travelled  at  all  before,"  Mary  answered, 
blushing  under  the  eyes  turned  upon  her. 

"Well,  you'll  find  it's  all  right,  what  I  say,"  the 
American  lady  went  on.  "But"  —  and  she  lost 
interest  in  Mary  —  "aren't  we  silly?  Miss  Ward- 
robe had  better  come  in  here,  where  there's  only  one 


52       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

place,  and  my  daughter  and  I'll  take  a  compart- 
ment together,  as  the  car  seems  pretty  full." 

"Please  don't  call  me  Miss  Wardrobe!"  ex- 
claimed the  golden-haired  girl.  "That's  the  eighth 
time.  I've  counted."  As  she  spoke,  her  tiny  dog 
yapped  in  a  thin  voice  at  the  offender,  its  round 
eyes  goggling. 

"I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,  I'm  sure,"  returned  the 
American,  acidly. 

"I  must  say,  I  really  don't  think  mamma's  had 
occasion  to  mention  your  name  as  many  times  as 
eight  since  we  first  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting," 
the  charming  wren  flew  to  her  mother's  rescue. 
"But  you've  got  such  a  difficult  name." 

"Anyhow,  it  isn't  like  everybody  else's,  which  is 
something"  retorted  the  girl  who  had  been  called 
"Miss  Wardrobe." 

Mary  began  to  be  curious  to  know  what  the  real 
name  was.  But  perhaps  she  would  find  out  later, 
as  the  young  woman  was  to  share  her  little  room. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  learn  things  about  this 
odd  party,  yet  she  would  rather  have  been  alone. 

Soon  after  Paris  there  was  dinner  in  the  dining- 
car  not  far  away,  and  Mary  had  opposite  her  the 
girl  with  the  queer  name.  No  one  else  was  at  the 
table.  At  first  they  did  not  speak,  and  Mary  re- 
membered the  training  of  her  childhood,  never  to 
seem  observant  of  strangers;  but  she  could  not  help 
looking  sometimes  at  her  neighbour.  The  first  thing 
the  latter  did  on  sitting  down  was  to  draw  off  her 
gloves,  and  roll  them  inside  out.  She  then  opened 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      53 

a  chain  bag  of  platinum  and  gold,  which  looked 
rather  dirty,  and  taking  out,  one  after  another, 
eight  jewelled  rings,  slipped  them  on  affectionately. 
Several  fingers  were  adorned  with  two  or  three, 
each  ring  appearing  to  have  its  recognized  place. 
When  all  were  on,  their  wearer  laid  a  hand  on  either 
side  of  her  plate,  and  regarded  first  one,  then  the 
other,  contentedly,  with  a  slight  movement  causing 
the  pink  manicured  nails  to  glitter,  and  bringing 
out  deep  flashes  from  diamonds,  rubies,  and  emer- 
alds. Glancing  up  suddenly,  with  self-conscious 
composure,  the  young  woman  saw  that  her  neigh- 
bour's eyes  appreciated  the  exhibition.  She  smiled, 
and  Mary  smiled  too. 

"If  I  didn't  think  my  stable-companion  was  all 
right,  I  wouldn't  have  dared  put  them  on,"  re- 
marked "Miss  Wardrobe."  "But  I  do  feel  so  — 
well,  undressed  almost,  without  my  rings;  don't 
you?" 

"I  haven't  any,"  Mary  confessed. 

"Why  —  don't  you  like  rings?" 

"Yes,  on  other  people.  I  love  jewels.  But  for 
myself,  I've  never  thought  of  having  any  —  yet." 

"I've  thought  more  about  it  than  about  any- 
thing else,"  remarked  the  girl,  smiling  a  broad,  flat 
smile  that  showed  beautiful  white  teeth.  She 
looked  curiously  unintelligent  when  she  smiled. 

"Perhaps  I  shall  begin  thinking  mor^e  about  it 
now." 

"That  sounds  interesting.  What  will  start  your 
mind  to  working  on  the  subject?  Looking  at  my 


54        THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

rings?"  She  had  an  odd,  persistent  accent  which 
irritated  Mary's  ears.  If  it  was  like  anything 
the  convent-bred  girl  had  heard,  it  resembled  the 
accent  of  a  housemaid  who  "did"  her  bedroom  in 
Cromwell  Road.  This  maid  had  said  that  she  was 
a  London  girl.  And  somehow  Mary  imagined  that, 
if  she  had  rings,  she  would  like  taking  them  out  of  a 
gold  bag  and  putting  them  on  at  the  dinner-table. 
Because  Mary  had  never  had  for  a  companion  any 
girl  or  woman  not  a  lady,  she  did  not  know  how  to 
account  for  peculiarities  which  would  not  have  puz- 
zled one  more  experienced. 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered,  smiling. 

"Maybe  you  mean  to  win  a  lot  of  money  at  Monte, 
and  buy  some?'* 

"At  Monte  —  does  that  mean  Monte  Carlo? 
Oh,  no,  I'm  going  to  Florence.  But  some  money 
has  been  left  to  me  lately,  so  I  can  do  and  have 
things  I  shouldn't  have  thought  of  before."  Mary 
explained  all  this  frankly,  yet  without  any  real  wish 
to  talk  of  her  own  affairs. 

The  four  others  of  the  party  were  at  a  table  op- 
posite; and  as  there  was  a  moment's  lull  in  the  rush 
of  waiters  and  clatter  of  plates  for  a  change  of 
courses,  now  and  then  a  few  words  of  conversation  at 
one  table  reached  another.  As  Mary  mentioned  the 
legacy  Lady  Dauntrey  suddenly  flashed  a  glance  at 
her,  and  though  the  long  pale  eyes  were  turned  away 
immediately,  she  had  the  air  of  listening  to  catch 
the  rest  of  the  sentence.  By  this  time  the  little 
quarrel  over  "Miss  Wardrobe's"  name  had  appar- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      55 

ently  been  forgotten.  The  five  were  on  good  terms, 
and  talked  to  each  other  across  the  gangway. 
Again  the  title  of  the  two  leading  members  of  the 
party  was  called  out  conspicuously,  and  people  at 
other  tables  turned  their  heads  or  stretched  their 
necks  to  look  at  this  party  who  advertised  the 
"jolly  time"  they  were  having.  They  chattered 
about  "Monte,"  and  about  celebrities  supposed  to 
have  arrived  there  already,  though  it  was  still  early 
in  the  season.  Lady  Dauntrey  told  anecdotes  of  the 
"Rooms,"  as  if  to  show  that  she  was  not  ignorant  of 
the  place;  but  Lord  Dauntrey  said  nothing  unless  he 
were  addressed,  and  then  answered  in  as  few  words 
as  possible.  Nevertheless  he  had  something  of  that 
old-world  courtesy  which  Mary  had  been  taught, 
and  she  felt  an  odd,  instinctive  sympathy  with  him. 
She  even  found  herself  pitying  the  man,  though  she 
did  not  know  why.  A  man  might  be  taciturn  and 
tired-looking  yet  not  unhappy. 

They  sat  a  long  time  at  dinner  before  they  were 
allowed  to  pay  and  go.  Lord  Dauntrey's  party 
smoked,  and  the  girl  at  Mary's  table  offered  her  a 
cigarette  from  a  gold  case  with  the  name  "Dodo" 
written  across  it  in  diamonds.  Mary  thanked  her, 
and  refused.  She  had  heard  girls  at  school  say  that 
they  knew  women  who  smoked,  but  she  had  never 
seen  a  woman  smoking.  It  seemed  odd  that  no  one 
looked  surprised. 

Her  neighbour,  whom  she  now  heard  addressed 
as  Miss  Wardropp,  did  not  come  into  their  com- 
partment at  once,  but  stopped  in  another  of  the 


56     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

same  size,  where  she,  with  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey 
and  Miss  Collis,  played  a  game  with  a  little  wheel 
which  they  turned.  When  Mary  stood  in  the 
corridor,  while  the  beds  were  being  made,  she  saw 
them  turning  this  wheel,  and  wondered  what  the 
game  could  be.  They  had  a  folding  board  with 
yellow  numbers  on  a  dark  green  ground,  and  they 
were  playng  with  ivory  chips  of  different  colours. 

Mary  had  the  lower  berth,  but  when  she  realized 
how  much  pleasanter  it  would  be  to  sleep  in  the 
upper  one,  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  take 
it.  She  felt  that  it  would  be  selfish  to  be  found 
there  when  Miss  Wardropp  came  to  undress;  and 
when  the  latter  did  appear,  toward  midnight,  it 
was  to  see  the  lower  berth  left  free. 

"Why,  but  you  were  below.  Didn't  you  know 
that?"  she  inquired  rather  sharply,  as  if  she  ex- 
pected her  room  mate  to  insist  on  changing. 

"Yes,"  Mary  replied  meekly.  "But  I  — I  left 
it  for  you,  and  your  little  dog." 

"Well,  I  do  think  that's  about  the  most  unselfish 
thing  I  ever  heard  of  any  one  doing!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Wardropp.  "Thank  you  very  much,  I'm  sure.  No 
good  my  refusing  now,  as  you're  already  in?" 

"No,  indeed,"  Mary  laughed. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  with  us  to  the  Villa  Bel- 
la Vista,"  said  the  other.  "From  what  I  can  see, 
we  don't  seem  likely  to  get  much  unselfishness  there, 
from  anybody." 

Then,  as  she  undressed,  showing  exquisite  under- 
clothing, she  followed  her  ambiguous  remark  by 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     57 

pouring  out  information  concerning  herself,  her 
companions,  and  their  plans. 

She  was  from  Australia,  and  intimated  that  her 
father,  lately  dead,  had  left  plenty  of  money.  She 
had  met  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey  a  month  ago  in 
Brighton  at  the  Metropole.  Where  the  Dauntreys 
had  "picked  up  the  Collises,"  Dodo  Wardropp  did 
not  know,  but  they  were  "late  acquisitions." 
"Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey  have  taken  a  furnished 
villa  at  Monte  for  the  season,"  she  went  on,  "a  big 
one,  so  they  can  have  lots  of  guests.  I  and  the 
Collises  are  the  first  instalment,  but  they're  expect- 
ing others:  two  or  three  men  with  titles." 

She  said  this  as  if  "titles"  were  a  disease,  like 
measles.  As  she  rubbed  off  the  day's  powder  and 
paint  with  cold  cream,  there  was  a  nice  smell  in 
the  little  room  of  the  wagon  lit,  like  the  scent  of  a 
theatrical  dressing-room. 

"I  suppose  you're  looking  forward  to  a  delightful 
winter,"  Mary  ventured,  from  her  berth,  as  Dodo 
hid  a  low-necked  lace  nightgown  under  a  pink  silk 
kimono  embroidered  with  gold. 

"I  hope!"  exclaimed  Miss  Wardropp.  "I  pay 
for  it,  anyhow.  I  don't  mind  telling,  as  you  aren't 
going  to  Monte,  and  won't  know  any  of  them,  that 
we're  sort  of  glorified  paying-guests.  The  Collises 
haven't  said  to  me  they're  that,  and  I  haven't  said 
what  I  am;  but  we  know.  I'm  paying  fourteen 
guineas  a  week  for  my  visit,  and  I've  a  sneaking 
idea  her  ladyship's  saving  up  the  best  room  for 
other  friends  who'll  give  more.  I  could  live  at  the 


58     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Hotel  de  Paris  in  Monte  Carlo,  I  expect,  for  that 
price,  but  you  see  the  catch  is  that  Lord  and 
Lady  Dauntrey  can  introduce  their  guests  to  swell 
people.  I  wouldn't  meet  the  right  kind  if  I  lived 
in  a  hotel,  even  with  a  first-rate  chaperon.  I  know, 
for  I  came  to  Monte  Carlo  with  an  Australian 
friend,  for  a  few  days  on  my  way  to  England.  It's 
no  use  being  at  a  resort  if  you  don't  get  into  the 
smart  set,  is  it?" 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Mary.  "But  I  think  I  care 
more  about  places  than  people." 

"I  don't  understand  that  feeling.  I  want  to  get 
in  with  the  best.  And  though  Lord  Dauntrey's  poor, 
and  I  imagine  disappointed  in  expectations  of  money 
with  her,  he  must  be  acquainted  with  a  lot  of  im- 
portant titled  people.  He's  a  viscount,  you  know, 
and  that's  pretty  high  up." 

"I  didn't  know,"  Mary  confessed.  "I  don't 
know  anything  about  society." 

"You  seem  to  have  led  a  retired  sort  of  life,"  Miss 
Wardropp  remarked,  though  without  much  curi- 
osity, for  she  was  not  really  interested  in  any 
woman  except  herself,  or  those  connected  with  her 
affairs.  "Surely  you  read  about  their  wedding  in 
South  Africa  last  Spring?" 

"No.     I  have  never  read  newspapers." 

"I  don't  bother  either,  except  society  news  and 
fashion  pages.  But  there  were  pictures  of  them 
both  everywhere.  I  expect  she  got  the  photo- 
graphs in,  for  he  doesn't  seem  a  man  to  like  that  sort 
of  thing.  Lord  Dauntrey  was  out  in  South  Africa 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       59 

for  years,  trying  to  make  his  fortune,  but  it  didn't 
appear  to  come  off.  Friends  of  mine  I  knew  at 
Brighton,  who  took  me  there,  a  rich  Jew  and  his 
wife  who'd  lived  in  Africa,  said  when  the  Dauntreys 
turned  up  at  the  Metropole  that  he'd  been  at  a 
pretty  low  ebb  out  there.  I  believe  he  studied  for  a 
doctor,  but  I  don't  know  if  he  ever  practised.  No- 
body can  say  exactly  who  Lady  Dauntrey  was 
originally,  but  she  was  a  widow  when  he  married  her, 
and  supposed  to  have  money.  He  doesn't  seem  to 
care  for  society,  but  she's  ambitious  to  be  some  one. 
She's  so  good-looking  she's  sure  to  succeed.  I 
expect  to  know  everybody  smart  at  Monte.  That's 
what  I've  been  promised,  and  Lady  Dauntrey  '11  en- 
tertain a  good  deal.  If  that  doesn't  amuse  her  hus- 
band he  can  shoot  pigeons,  and  gamble  at  the 
Casino.  He's  got  a  system  at  roulette  that  works 
splendidly  on  his  little  wheel.  We  were  playing  it 
this  evening.  But  I  expect  I'm  boring  you.  You 
look  sleepy.  I'll  turn  in,  and  go  bye-bye  with 
Diablette." 

For  the  rest  of  the  night  all  was  silence  in  the 
compartment,  save  for  the  gobbling  noises  made  in 
her  sleep  by  the  griffon  Diablette.  Mary  lay  awake 
in  her  upper  berth,  longing  to  look  out,  and  thrilling 
to  musical  cries  of  big  baritone  voices  at  the  few 
stops  the  train  made:  "Di-jon-n,  cjnq  minutes 
d'arret!  Ma-con-n,  cinq  minutes  d'ar-ret!  Ly- 
on,  dix  minutes  d'a-rr-et!" 

It  was  wonderful  to  hear  the  names  ring  like 
bells  out  of  the  mystery  and  darkness  of  night, 


60       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

names  she  had  known  all  her  life  since  she  had  been 
old  enough  to  study  history  or  read  romance.  She 
thought  that  the  criers  must  have  been  chosen  for 
their  resonant  voices,  and  in  her  mind  she  pictured 
faces  to  match,  dark  and  ruddy,  with  great  southern 
eyes;  for  now  the  train  was  booming  toward  Pro- 
vence: and  though  Mary  began  to  be  drowsy,  she 
held  herself  awake  on  purpose  to  hear  "Avignon" 
shouted  through  the  night. 

Very  early,  almost  before  it  was  light,  she  arose 
noiselessly,  bathed  as  well  as  she  could,  and 
dressed,  so  as  to  be  able  to  look  out  at  Marseilles. 
Miss  Wardropp  was  asleep,  and  as  the  train 
slowed  into  the  big  station  in  the  pale  glimmer 
of  the  winter  morning,  Mary  walked  to  the  end  of 
the  car.  The  stop  would  be  twenty  minutes,  and 
as  the  train  gave  its  last  jerk  Mary  jumped  on  to 
the  platform. 

The  sky  was  of  a  faint,  milky  blue,  like  the  blue 
that  moves  under  the  white  cloud  in  a  moonstone, 
and  the  first  far  down  ray  of  morning  sun,  coming 
up  with  the  balmy  wind  from  still,  secret  places 
where  the  youth  of  the  world  slept,  shimmered 
golden  as  a  buttercup  held  under  the  pearly  chin  of 
a  child.  This  was  only  Marseilles,  but  already  the 
smell  of  the  south  was  in  the  air,  the  scent  of  warm 
salt  sea,  of  eucalyptus  logs  burning,  and  pine  trees 
and  invisible  orange  groves.  On  the  platform,  osier 
baskets  packed  full  of  flowers  sent  out  wafts  of  per- 
fume; and  as  Mary  stood  gazing  over  the  heads  of 
the  crowd  at  the  lightening  sky,  she  thought  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      61 

dawn  rushed  up  the  east  like  a  torchbearer,  bringing 
good  news.  Just  for  a  moment  she  forgot  every- 
body, and  could  have  sung  for  joy  of  life  —  a  feeling 
new  to  her,  though  something  deep  down  in  herself 
had  whispered  that  it  was  there  and  she  might  know 
it  if  she  would.  It  was  such  faint  whisperings  as 
this  which,  repeated  often,  had  driven  her  from 
the  convent. 

"How young  I  am!"  she  thought,  for  once  actively 
self-conscious.  "How  young  I  am,  and  how  young 
the  world  is!" 

She  let  her  eyes  fall  from  the  sky  and  plunge  into 
the  turmoil  of  the  station,  turmoil  of  people  getting 
in  and  out  of  trains,  of  porters  running  with  luggage, 
of  restaurant  employes  wheeling  stands  of  food 
through  the  crowd,  piled  oranges  and  mandarines, 
and  white  grapes,  decorated  with  leaves  and  a  few 
flowers;  soldiers  arriving  or  saying  goodbye,  jolly 
dark  youths  in  red  and  blue;  an  Arab  trying  to  sell 
scarfs  from  Algiers;  a  Turkish  family  travelling; 
English  men  and  women  newly  landed,  with  P.  &  O. 
labels  large  on  their  hand-bags;  French  bonnes  wear- 
ing quaint  stiff  caps  and  large  floating  ribbons; 
Indian  ayahs  wrapped  in  shawls.  Mary  gazed  at 
the  scene  as  if  it  were  a  panorama,  and  scarcely 
dwelt  upon  individuals  until  her  eyes  were  drawn 
by  the  eyes  of  a  man. 

It  was  when  she  had  mounted  the  steps  of  her  own 
car,  and  turned  once  more  before  going  in.  So  she 
looked  down  at  the  man  looking  up. 

She  blushed  under  the  eyes,  for  there  was  some- 


62     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

thing  like  adoration  in  them,  romantic  admiration 
such  as  a  man  may  feel  for  the  picture  of  a  lovely 
saint  against  a  golden  background,  or  the  poetic 
heroine  of  a  classic  legend.  They  were  extraor- 
dinarily handsome  eyes,  dark  and  mysterious  as  only 
Italian  eyes  can  be,  though  Mary  Grant  did  not 
know  this,  having  gazed  into  few  men's  eyes,  and 
none  that  were  Italian. 

"Looking  up  so,  his  face  is  like  what  Romeo's 
must  have  been,"  she  said  to  herself  with  an  answer- 
ing romantic  impulse.  "Surely  he  is  Italian!" 

And  he,  looking  up  at  her,  said,  "What  a  picture 
of  Giulietta  on  the  balcony!  Is  she  French,  Ital- 
ian, Russian?" 

The  man  was  a  Roman,  whose  American  mother 
had  not  robbed  him  of  an  ardent  temperament  that 
leaned  toward  romance;  and  he  had  just  come  back 
to  the  west  across  the  sea,  from  a  romantic  mission 
in  the  east.  He  had  not  exchanged  words  with  a 
woman  for  months,  in  the  desert  where  he  had 
been  living.  For  this  reason,  perhaps,  he  was  the 
readier  to  find  romance  in  any  lovely  pair  of  eyes; 
but  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  never  had  been 
such  eyes  as  these.  For  always,  in  a  man's  life, 
there  must  be  one  pair  of  eyes  which  are  trans- 
cendent stars,  even  if  they  are  seen  but  once,  then 
lost  forever. 

This  was  not  his  train,  for  the  luxe  does  not  take 
local  passengers,  in  the  season  when  every  place 
is  filled  between  Paris  and  Nice;  but  because  of 
Mary's  face,  he  wished  to  travel  with  her,  and  look 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       63 

into  her  eyes  again,  in  order  to  make  sure  if  they 
really  held  the  magic  of  that  first  glance. 

He  found  a  train-attendant  and  spoke  with  him 
rapidly,  in  a  low  voice,  making  at  the  same  time 
a  suggestive  chinking  of  gold  and  silver  with  one 
hand  in  his  pocket. 


IV 

UNDER  the  golden  sunshine,  the  luxe  steamed  on: 
after  Toulon  no  longer  tearing  through  the  country 
with  few  pauses,  but  stopping  at  many  stations. 
For  the  first  time  Mary  saw  olive  trees,  spouting 
silver  like  great  fountains,  and  palms  stretching 
out  dark  green  hands  of  Fatma  against  blue  sky 
and  bluer  sea.  For  the  first  time  she  saw  the  Med- 
iterranean that  she  had  dreamed  of  in  her  cold,  dim 
room  at  the  convent.  This  was  like  the  dreams 
and  the  stories  told  by  Peter,  only  better;  for  noth- 
ing could  give  a  true  idea  of  the  glimmering 
olive  groves.  Under  the  silvery  branches  delicate  as 
smoke-wreaths,  and  among  the  gnarled  gray  trunks, 
it  seemed  that  at  any  moment  a  band  of  nymphs  or 
dryads  might  pass,  streaming  away  in  fear  from 
the  noises  of  civilization. 

At  St.  Raphael  and  Frejus  colossal  legs  of  masonry 
strode  across  the  green  meadows,  and  Mary  knew 
that  they  had  been  built  by  Romans.  Pine  trees 
like  big,  open  umbrellas  were  black  against  a  cur- 
tain of  azure.  Acres  of  terraces  were  planted  with 
rows  of  flowers  like  straightened  rainbows:  young 
roses,  carnations,  pinky  white  stock  and  blue  and 
purple  hyacinths;  and  over  the  coral  or  gamboge 
painted  walls  of  little  railway  stations  bougainvillea 

64 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       65 

poured  cataracts  of  crimson.  By  and  by  the  train 
ran  close  to  the  sea,  and  miniature  waves  blue  as 
melted  turquoise  curled  on  amber  sands,  shafts  of 
gilded  light  glinting  through  the  crest  of  each  roller 
where  the  crystal  arch  was  shattered  into  foam. 

Then  came  the  wonderful  red  rocks  which  Peter 
had  described;  ruddy  monsters  of  incredible  shapes 
which  had  crawled  down  to  drink,  and  lay  basking 
in  the  clear  water,  their  huge  rounded  backs  bright 
as  copper  where  the  westerly  sun  smote  them;  for 
by  this  time  it  was  afternoon.  At  Cannes,  yachts 
sat  high  in  the  quaint  harbour  like  proud  white 
swans :  mysterious  islands  slept  on  the  calm  surface 
of  the  sea,  dreaming  of  their  own  reflections;  and  a 
company  of  blue-clad  mountains,  strangely  crowned, 
were  veiled  below  their  foreheads  like  harem  women 
with  delicate  fabric  of  cloud,  thin  as  fine  muslin. 

After  Cannes,  appeared  Antibes,  with  its  penin- 
sula of  palms  and  pines,  its  old  harbour,  town,  and 
white  lighthouse;  and  at  last,  Nice. 

Many  people  whose  faces  Mary  had  seen  at  din- 
ner the  night  before,  and  again  at  luncheon,  left 
the  train  at  Nice;  and  on  the  platforms,  waiting  for 
local  trains,  she  saw  girls  in  flowery  hats,  and  white 
or  pale  tinted  serge  dresses,  such  as  they  might  wear 
on  a  cool  day  of  an  English  summer.  They  could 
not  be  travelling  far,  in  such  frocks  and  hats,  and 
Mary  wondered  where  they  were  going,  with  their 
little  plump  hand-bags  of  netted  gold  or  embroidered 
velvet. 

By  and  by  a  train  moved  in,  also  on  its  way  to 


66       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Monte  Carlo.  Women  and  men  suddenly  surged 
together  in  a  compact  wave,  and  struggled  with 
each  other  at  the  doors  of  the  corridor  carriages. 
Fat  men  had  no  hesitation  in  pushing  themselves  in 
front  of  thin  women;  robust  females  dashed  little 
men  aside,  and  mounted  triumphantly.  All  were 
eager,  and  bent  upon  some  object  in  which  they 
refused  to  be  thwarted. 

The  beauty  of  the  coast  was  dreamlike  to  Mary, 
who  had  lived  ever  since  she  could  remember  in  the 
north  of  Scotland,  among  moorland  and  hills  whose 
only  intrinsic  brilliance  of  colour  came  at  the  time  of 
heather.  She  had  loved  the  browns  and  cloudy 
grays,  and  the  deep  blue  of  the  lake  and  the  pensive 
violet  shadows;  but  this  was  like  a  burst  of  gorgeous 
day  after  an  existence  in  sweet,  pale  twilight.  She 
rejoiced  that  she  had  persisted  in  seeing  the  Riviera 
before  passing  into  Italy. 

It  seemed  that,  after  Nice,  each  stopping-place 
was  prettier  and  more  flowery  than  the  one  before. 
She  had  no  one  to  admire  them  with  her,  for  since 
luncheon,  which  Mary  had  taken  early,  Miss  Ward- 
ropp  had  been  in  another  compartment  playing 
the  game  with  the  little  wheel  and  spinning  ivory 
ball.  But  after  passing  Villefranche  harbour, 
Beaulieu  drowned  in  olives,  and  Eze  under  its  old 
hill-village  on  a  horn  of  rock,  the  Australian  girl 
came  back,  to  exchange  a  cap  of  purple  suede  for 
her  cartwheel  of  a  hat. 

"The  next  station  where  the  train  stops  will  be 
Monaco,"  she  announced. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      67 

"Oh,  then  you'll  be  getting  out  almost  at  once?" 
And  Mary  prepared  to  say  goodbye. 

"Not  yet.  The  station  after  Monaco:  Monte 
Carlo  —  darling  place!  But  the  principality  begins 
at  Monaco  of  course.  I  told  you  how  I  stayed  three 
days  before  I  went  to  England.  Almost  everybody 
who  lands  at  Marseilles  wants  to  run  on  to  Monte 
for  a  flutter,  in  season  or  out. " 

Miss  Wardropp  put  away  a  novel,  and  dusted  a 
little  powder  over  her  face,  with  the  aid  of  a  gold 
vanity-box.  The  train  plunged  through  a  tunnel 
or  two,  and  flashed  out,  giving  a  glimpse  of  Monaco's 
high  red  rock  with  the  Prince's  palace  half  girdled 
by  ruinous  gray  walls  and  towers  of  ancient  feudal 
days.  Dodo  was  ready  to  go.  She  bade  her  com- 
panion goodbye,  and  good  luck  in  Florence.  "Too 
bad  you're  not  getting  out  here!"  she  said,  as  they 
shook  hands.  And  then  Mary  forgot  her  in  gazing 
at  the  Rock  of  Hercules,  the  red  rock  crowned  with 
walls  as  old  as  history,  and  jewelled  with  flowers. 
Close  to  shore  the  water  was  green  and  clear  as 
beryl,  and  iridescent  blue  as  a  peacock's  breast 
where  the  sea  flowed  past  the  breakwater.  In  the 
harbour  were  yachts  large  and  small,  a  trading  ship 
or  two,  and  fishing  boats  drawn  up  on  a  narrow  strip 
of  beach.  Across  from  the  Rock,  and  joined  to  it 
by  the  low-lying  Condamine,  was  Monte  Carlo, 
with  the  white  Casino  towers  pointing  high  above 
roofs  and  feathery  banks  of  trees,  like  the  horns  of 
a  great  animal  crouched  basking  in  the  gay  sun- 
light. 


68      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Mary  remembered  how  Peter  had  told  her  the 
tale  of  Hercules  landing  here:  how  he  had  come  in 
a  small  boat,  and  claimed  the  rock  and  the  lovely 
semi-circle  of  coast  for  his  own.  "The  guests  of 
Hercules,  going  to  pay  him  a  visit, "  she  said  to  her- 
self now,  as  passengers  began  to  push  their  way 
along  the  corridor,  in  order  to  be  the  first  ones  down. 
The  girl's  heart  began  suddenly  to  beat  very  fast, 
she  did  not  know  why. 

"What  is  there  to  be  excited  about?"  she  asked 
herself.  No  answer  came.  Yet  the  fact  remained. 
She  was  intensely  excited. 

"If  I  were  getting  out,  like  all  these  other 
people,"  she  thought,  "there'd  be  an  excuse.  But 
as  it  is 

Then,  far  down  within  herself,  a  tiny  voice  said: 
"Why  shouldn't  you  get  out  —  now,  quickly,  while 
there's  time?" 

It  was  a  voice  which  seemed  quite  separate  from 
herself,  and  she  could  feel  it  as  if  her  body  were  a 
cage  in  which  a  tiny  bird  sang  a  small  song  in  a  sweet 
voice  that  must  be  listened  to  intently. 

There  was  no  strong  reason,  when  she  came  to 
think  of  it,  why  she  should  not  listen,  although  to 
listen  gave  her  a  sensation  of  childish  guilt.  She 
was  her  own  mistress.  She  had  never  promised 
Peter,  nor  any  one  else,  not  to  come  to  Monte  Carlo. 
Peter  had  advised  her  against  coming,  that  was  all. 
And  Peter,  though  dear  and  kind,  had  no  right  - 

Why  not  obey  the  bird  voice,  and  get  out  quickly 
while  there  was  time? 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      69 

It  was  beautiful  here,  and  this  was  the  best  season. 
Florence  could  be  very  cold,  people  said,  and  so 
could  Rome.  But  on  the  Riviera,  in  December, 
roses  and  a  thousand  flowers  were  in  bloom. 

To  dash  out  of  the  train  unexpectedly,  as  a  sur- 
prise to  herself,  would  be  a  great  adventure.  To 
come  another  time,  according  to  a  plan,  would  not 
be  an  adventure  at  all. 

Never  in  her  whole  past  life  had  she  had  an  ad- 
venture. What  fun  to  land  at  Monte  Carlo  with 
only  hand-luggage!  The  rest  would  go  on  to 
Florence,  but  somehow  she  could  retrieve  it  sooner 
or  later,  and  meanwhile  how  amusing  to  spend  a 
little  part  of  her  legacy  in  fitting  herself  out  with 
new  things,  clothes  which  would  give  her  a  place 
in  the  picture!  And  she  needn't  stay  long.  What 
were  a  few  days  more  or  less? 

There  was  only  a  minute  to  make  up  her  mind. 
The  train  was  slowing  into  the  station,  a  large 
attractive  station,  adorned  with  posters  of  dream- 
places  painted  in  rich  dream-colours,  like  those  of 
stained  glass.  On  the  platform,  to  the  left  of  the 
station  building,  stood  a  boy  twelve  or  fourteen 
years  old,  dressed  in  livery.  He  had  a  bullet  head, 
with  hair  so  black  as  to  seem  more  like  a  thick, 
shining  coat  of  varnish  than  hair.  His  eyes  were 
very  large  and  expressed  a  burning  energy,  as  if  he 
were  nerving  himself  to  a  great  feat,  and  the  mo- 
ment of  action  had  arrived.  Mary  watched  him,  in 
a  sudden  flash  of  curious  interest,  as  if  she  must  at 
all  costs  see  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  then  make 


70       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her  decision.  This  was  a  ridiculous  idea,  but  she 
could  not  take  her  eyes  off  the  child,  as  the  train 
slowly  approached  him  on  its  way  into  the  station. 
He  drew  in  a  great  breath,  which  empurpled  the 
brown  of  his  face,  and  then  emitted  a  single  word, 
"  As-cen-s-e-u-r ! "  in  a  singing  roar,  into  which  he 
threw  his  whole  soul,  as  a  young  tiger  does.  As  the 
train  passed  the  boy,  Mary,  gazing  out  of  the  cor- 
ridor window,  looked  straight  down  the  deep  round 
tunnel  that  was  his  open  mouth,  and  caught  his 
strained  eye.  He  suddenly  looked  self-conscious, 
and  broke  into  a  foolish  yet  pleasant  smile.  Mary 
smiled  too,  like  a  child,  showing  her  dimples. 
Then  she  knew  that  she  would  get  out  at  Monte 
Carlo  no  matter  what  happened. 

At  this  instant,  as  the  train  stopped  with  a  slight 
jerk,  the  attendant  in  his  neat  brown  uniform 
whisked  past  Mary  into  her  compartment,  to  snatch 
Miss  Wardropp's  bag  and  earn  his  fee.  By  this 
time  the  passengers  who  were  alighting  at  Monte 
Carlo  had  pressed  down  the  corridor  in  a  procession, 
treading  on  each  others'  heels. 

"If  I  should  get  out  here,  could  I  use  my  ticket 
afterward  on  to  Florence?"  Mary  hastily  in- 
quired in  French.  But  whatever  the  answer  might 
be,  her  mind  was  obstinately  set  on  the  adventure 
she  wanted. 

"But  yes,  certainly,  Mademoiselle,"  replied  the 
man. 

"Then  will  you  take  my  bag,  too,  please?" 

The  porter's  tired  eyes  dwelt  on  her  for  an  instant 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       71 

understandingly,  sympathetically,  even  pityingly. 
Perhaps  he  had  seen  other  passengers  make  up  their 
minds  at  the  last  minute  to  stop  at  Monte  Carlo. 
He  said  nothing,  but  seized  the  bag;  and  with  her 
heart  beating  as  if  this  decision  had  changed  the 
whole  face  of  the  world,  Mary  hurried  after  the 
stout  brown  figure,  and  joined  the  end  of  the  pro- 
cession as  it  poured  from  the  wagon  lit  on  to  the 
platform. 


MARY  followed  the  other  people  who  had  left 
the  train.  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey,  with  their 
party,  were  far  ahead,  and  she  could  not  have  spoken 
to  them  if  she  had  wished,  without  running  to  catch 
them  up;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  speak.  She  had 
taken  no  dislike  to  them ;  on  the  contrary,  she  was 
interested,  but  she  did  not  feel  inclined  to  ask 
advice,  or  attach  herself  to  any  one.  She  enjoyed 
the  idea  of  a  wonderful  new  independence. 

The  sunshine  made  her  feel  energetic,  and  full 
of  courage  and  enterprise,  which  had  been  crushed 
out  of  her  in  London  by  the  chilly  manner  of  her 
relatives,  and  the  weight  of  the  black  fog. 

Passing  through  the  station,  after  having  part  of 
her  ticket  torn  from  its  book,  she  reached  the  front 
of  the  building,  where  a  great  many  hotel  omnibuses 
and  a  few  private  motors  were  in  waiting.  A  sta- 
tion porter  was  following  her  now,  with  the  one 
dressing-bag  which  remained  of  her  abandoned 
luggage.  "Quel  hotel,  Mademoiselle?"  he  inquired. 

Mary  hesitated,  her  eyes  roaming  over  the 
omnibuses.  One  was  conspicuous,  drawn  by  four 
splendid  horses,  driven  by  a  big  man  with  a 
shining  conical  hat,  and  a  wide  expanse  of  scarlet 
waistcoat. 

72 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      73 

No  other  omnibus  looked  quite  so  important. 
On  it,  in  gold  letters,  Mary  red  "Hotel  de  Paris." 
The  name  sounded  vaguely  familiar.  Where  had 
she  lately  heard  this  hotel  mentioned!  Oh,  yes!  by 
Miss  Wardropp. 

"  Hotel  de  Paris,  s'il  vous  plait, "  she  answered. 

In  another  moment  her  bag  was  in  the  omnibus, 
and  she  was  climbing  in  after  it  in  the  wake  of 
other  persons,  enough  to  fill  the  roomy  vehicle.  As 
she  settled  into  her  corner  she  saw  a  man  walk 
slowly  by  at  a  distance.  He  was  not  looking  at 
her  for  the  moment,  and  she  had  no  more  than  a 
glimpse  of  a  dark,  clearly  drawn  profile;  yet  she  re- 
ceived a  curious  impression  that  he  had  just  turned 
away  from  looking  at  her;  and  she  was  almost 
sure  it  was  the  man  she  had  noticed  at  Marseilles. 
Now  her  Romeo  idea  of  him  struck  her  as  senti- 
mental. She  wondered  why  she  had  connected  such 
a  thought  with  a  man  in  modern  clothes,  in  a  noisy 
railway  station.  The  morning  and  its  impressions 
seemed  long  ago.  She  felt  older  and  more  experi- 
enced, almost  like  a  woman  of  the  world,  as  the  big 
horses  trotted  up  a  hill,  leaving  all  the  other 
omnibuses  behind.  From  under  the  large  hat  of  a 
large  German  lady,  she  peered  eagerly,  to  lose  no 
detail  in  approaching  Monte  Carlo. 

High  at  the  right  rose  a  terrace  like  a  hanging 
garden,  attached  to  a  huge  white  hotel.  In  front  of 
the  building,  and  also  very  high,  ran  a  long  covered 
gallery  where  there  appeared  to  be  restaurants  and 
shops.  At  the  left  were  gardens;  and  then  in  a 


74       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

moment  more,  coming  out  into  an  open  square,  all 
Monte  Carlo  seemed  made  of  gardens  with  extraor- 
dinary, ornate  white  buildings  in  their  midst,  sugar- 
cake  buildings  made  for  pleasure  and  amusement, 
all  glass  windows  and  plaster  figures  and  irrelevant 
towers,  the  whole  ringed  in  by  a  semi-circle  of  high, 
gray  mountains.  It  was  a  fantastic  fairyland,  this 
place  of  palms  and  bosky  lawns,  with  grass  far  too 
green  to  seem  real,  and  beds  of  incredibly  brilliant 
flowers. 

One  section  of  the  garden  ran  straight  and  long, 
like  a  gayly  patterned  carpet,  toward  a  middle 
background  of  climbing  houses  with  red  roofs;  and 
it  began  to  spread  almost  from  the  steps  of  the  cream 
white  building  with  jewelled  and  gilded  horns,  which 
Mary  had  seen  in  Peter's  Riviera  snapshots:  the 
Casino.  As  the  omnibus  swung  round  a  generous 
half  circle,  slowly  now  to  avoid  loitering  groups  of 
people,  Mary  saw  many  men  and  women  arriving 
in  motors  or  on  foot,  to  go  up  the  shallow  flight  of 
carpeted  marble  steps  which  led  into  the  horned 
building.  She  thought  again  of  an  immense  animal 
face  under  these  erect,  glittering  horns;  a  face  with 
quantities  of  intelligent,  bright  glass  eyes  that 
watched,  and  a  wide-open,  smiling  mouth  into  which 
the  figures  walked  confidently.  It  looked  a  kind, 
friendly  animal  basking  in  the  gardens,  and  the  big 
clock  above  its  forehead,  round  which  pigeons 
wheeled,  added  to  its  air  of  comfortable  good  nature. 
Mary  was  suddenly  smitten  with  a  keen  curiosity 
to  see  exactly  what  all  these  people  would  see  who 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      75 

allowed  themselves  to  be  swallowed  by  the  mouth 
which  smiled  in  receiving  them.  Most  of  the  women 
were  smartly  dressed  and  had  gold  or  embroidered 
bags  in  their  hands,  like  those  she  had  seen  at 
Nice  station.  They  went  in  looking  straight  ahead, 
and  men  ran  up  the  steps  quickly.  Surely  this  was 
more  than  a  mere  building.  There  was  something 
alive  and  vital  and  mysteriously  attractive  about  it, 
though  it  was  not  beautiful  at  all  architecturally, 
only  rich  looking  and  extraordinary,  with  its  bronze 
youths  sitting  on  the  cornice  and  plaster  figures 
starting  out  of  the  walls,  laughing  and  beckoning. 
It  had  a  personality  which  subtly  contrived  to 
dominate  and  make  everything  else  in  the  little 
fairyland  of  flowers  subservient  to  it,  almost  as  if 
the  emotions  and  passions  of  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  souls  from  all  over  the  world  had  sat- 
urated the  materials  of  its  construction. 

As  this  fancy  came  to  Mary's  mind,  the  sun  in  its 
last  look  over  the  gray  Tete  de  Chien  struck  her  full 
in  the  eyes  as  with  a  flung  golden  gauntlet,  then 
dropped  behind  the  mountain,  setting  the  sky  on  fire. 
An  unreal  light  illumined  the  buildings  in  the  fairy 
gardens,  and  Mary  became  conscious  of  an  invisible 
tide  of  burning  life  all  around  her  which  caught  her 
in  its  rushing  flood.  She  was  impelled  to  float  on  a 
swift  and  shining  stream  which  she  knew  was 
carrying  many  others  besides  herself  in  the  same 
direction  toward  an  unseen  but  definite  end.  She 
was  like  a  leaf  snatched  from  a  quiet  corner  by  the 
wind  and  forced  to  join  the  whirl  of  its  fellow-dancers. 


76     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

It  was  a  feeling  that  warmed  her  veins  with  ex- 
citement, and  made  her  reckless. 

The  omnibus  passed  the  Casino,  and  a  little 
farther  on  stopped  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Paris.  It 
too  was  fantastically  ornate,  surely  the  most  extra- 
ordinary hotel  on  earth,  with  a  high  roof  of  a  gray 
severity  which  ironically  frowned  down  upon  gilded 
balconies  and  nude  plaster  women  who  supported 
them,  robustly  voluptuous  creatures  who  faded  into 
foliage  below  the  waist,  like  plump  nymphs  escap- 
ing the  rude  pursuit  of  gods.  Their  bareness  and 
boldness  startled  the  convent-bred  girl,  even  horri- 
fied her.  She  was  the  last  to  leave  the  omnibus, 
and  then,  instead  of  pushing  in  with  her  fellow- 
passengers  to  secure  a  room  before  others  could  snap 
up  everything,  she  lingered  a  moment  on  the  steps. 

Still  that  magical  light  illumined  the  Place,  under 
the  sky's  rosy  fire.  The  long  glass  facade  of  the 
restaurant  sent  out  diamond  flashes.  The  pigeons 
strutting  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  Casino 
were  jewels  moving  on  sticks  of  coral.  As  they 
walked,  tiny  purple  shadows  followed  them,  as  if 
their  little  red  legs  were  tangled  in  pansies.  Across 
the  Place,  on  the  other  side  of  the  garden  and  op- 
posite the  hotel,  was  an  absurd  yet  gay  collection 
of  bubbly  Moorish  domes,  and  open  or  glassed-in 
galleries,  evidently  a  cafe.  Music  was  playing  there, 
and  in  front  of  the  balconies  were  many  chairs  and 
little  tables  where  people  drank  tea  and  fed  the 
strutting  pigeons.  Beyond  the  bubbly  domes  shim- 
mered a  panorama  of  beauty  which  by  force  of  its 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      77 

magnificence  redeemed  the  frivolous  fairyland  from 
vulgarity,  rather  than  rebuked  it.  Under  the  rain 
of  rose  and  gold,  as  if  seen  through  opaline  gauze, 
shone  sea  and  hills  and  distant  mountains.  On  a 
green  height  a  ruined  castle  and  its  vassal  rock- 
village  seemed  to  have  fallen  from  the  top  and  been 
arrested  by  some  miracle  halfway  down.  Beneath, 
a  peninsula  of  pines  silvered  with  olives  floated  on  a 
sea  of  burnished  gold;  and  above  soared  mountains 
that  went  billowing  away  to  the  east  and  to  Italy, 
deep  purple-red  in  the  wine  of  sunset. 

Mary  forgot  that  people  do  not  come  to  hotels 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  standing  on  the  steps  to  ad- 
mire a  view.  It  was  a  liveried  servant  who  politely 
reminded  her  of  her  duty  by  holding  the  glass  door 
open  and  murmuring  a  suggestion  that  Mademoiselle 
should  give  herself  the  pain  of  entering.  Then, 
slightly  dazed  by  new  impressions  and  the  magni- 
tude of  her  independence,  Mary  walked  humbly  into 
an  immense  hall,  marble  paved  and  marble  col- 
umned. She  bad  never  seen  anything  half  so 
gorgeous,  and  though  she  did  not  know  yet  whether 
she  liked  or  disliked  the  bewildering  decorations 
of  mermaids  and  sea  animals  and  flowers,  she  was 
struck  by  their  magnificent  audacity  into  a  sense 
of  her  own  insignificance.  Before  she  could  dare 
to  walk  here  as  by  right,  or  seat  herself  in  one  of 
those  great  gilded  and  brocaded  chairs,  she  must 
buy  clothes  which  suited  Monte  Carlo  as  all  this 
florid  splendour  of  ornamentation  suited  it.  She 
did  not  put  this  in  words,  but  like  all  women 


78       THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

possessed  of  "temperament,"  had  in  her  something 
of  the  chameleon,  and  instinctively  wished  to  match 
her  tints  with  her  environment. 

Suddenly  she  recalled  a  solemn  warning  from  Mrs. 
Home-Davis  that  some  hotels  refused  to  receive 
women  travelling  alone,  and  her  heart  was  inclined 
to  fail  as  she  asked  for  a  room.  But  fortunately 
this  was  not  one  of  those  cruel  hotels  Aunt  Sara  had 
heard  about.  Mary  was  received  civilly  and  without 
surprise.  A  view  of  the  sea?  Certainly  Madem- 
oiselle could  have  a  room  with  a  view  of  the  sea. 
It  would  be  at  the  price  of  from  thirty  to  fifty  francs 
a  day.  Mary  said  that  she  would  like  to  see  a  room 
for  thirty  francs,  and  felt  economical  and  virtuous 
as  she  did  so.  She  had  been  brought  up  to  consider 
economy  a  good  thing  in  the  abstract,  but  she  knew 
practically  nothing  of  the  value  of  money,  as  she 
had  never  bought  anything  for  herself  until  she 
went  to  London.  It  seemed  to  her  now  that,  with 
fifty  thousand  pounds,  she  was  so  rich  that  she 
could  have  anything  she  wanted  in  the  world,  but 
she  had  nebulous  ideas  as  to  what  to  want. 

A  pretty  little  pink  and  gray  room  was  shown 
her,  so  pretty  that  it  seemed  cheap  until  she  heard 
that  food  and  everything  else  was  "extra";  but  the 
view  decided  her  to  take  it.  The  large  window 
looked  southwest,  with  the  harbour  and  rock  of 
Monaco  to  the  right,  and  to  the  left  an  exquisite 
group  of  palms  on  the  Casino  terrace,  which  gave  an 
almost  mysterious  value  to  a  background  of  violet 
sky  melting  into  deeper  violet  sea.  As  she  stood 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       79 

looking  out,  silver  voices  of  bells  chimed  melodiously 
across  the  water,  from  the  great  Byzantine  cathe- 
dral on  the  Rock.  It  was  all  beautiful  and  poetic. 
Mary  would  have  taken  the  room  if  it  had 
been  a  hundred  instead  of  a  paltry  thirty  francs  a 
day.  But  she  could  not  affojrd  to  stop  and  look  at 
the  violet  sea,  still  haunted  by  the  red  wreckage  of 
sunset.  She  had  her  shopping  to  do,  for  she  must 
somehow  find  exactly  the  right  hat  and  dress, 
ready  to  put  on,  or  she  would  have  to  dine  in  her 
room,  and  that  would  be  imprisonment  on  the  first 
night  at  Monte  Carlo. 

She  ran  quickly  downstairs  again,  not  in  the  least 
tired  after  her  journey,  and  changed  a  thousand- 
franc  note,  which  perhaps  inspired  official  confidence 
in  the  young  English  lady  with  only  a  hand-bag  for 
luggage.  Also,  she  inquired  where  she  could  buy 
the  prettiest  things  to  wear,  and  was  directed  to  the 
Galerie  Charles  Trois,  which  turned  out  to  be  that 
covered  gallery  with  shops  and  restaurants  that  she 
had  noticed  when  driving  up  the  hill. 

By  this  time,  though  it  was  not  yet  dark,  lights 
gleamed  everywhere  like  great  diamonds  scintil- 
lating among  the  palms,  or  stars  shining  on  the 
hills.  The  grass  and  trees  and  flowers  in  the  Place 
of  the  Casino  looked  twice  as  unreal  as  before,  all 
theatrically  vivid  in  colour,  and  extraordinarily  flat, 
as  if  cut  out  of  painted  cardboard  against  a  back- 
ground of  gauze. 

The  ruined  castle  and  old  rock-town  tumbling 
down  the  far-off  hillside  still  smouldered  in  after- 


80      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

sunset  fire,  windows  glittering  like  the  rubies  in 
some  lost  crown,  dropped  by  a  forgotten  king  in 
battle.  But  the  red  of  the  sky  was  paling  to  hy- 
acinth a  strange  and  lovely  tint  that  was  neither  rose 
nor  blue.  As  Mary  went  to  buy  herself  pretty 
things,  walking  through  a  scene  of  beauty  beyond 
her  convent  dreams,  she  murmured  a  small  prayer 
of  thanksgiving  that  she  had  been  guided  to  this 
heavenly  place. 

She  must  write  to  Reverend  Mother  and  Peter, 
she  thought,  explaining  why  she  was  here,  and  how 
glad  she  was  that  she  had  happened  to  come. 
Then  it  struck  her  suddenly,  though  more  humor- 
ously than  disagreeably,  that  it  would  be  rather 
difficult  to  explain,  expecially  in  a  way  to  satisfy 
Peter.  Perhaps  dear  Reverend  Mother  would  be 
anxious  for  her  safety,  if  Peter  said  any  of  those 
rather  silly  things  of  Monte  Carlo  which  at  the  last 
she  had  said  to  her  —  Mary.  After  all,  maybe  it 
would  be  better  to  keep  to  the  first  plan  and  not 
write  until  she  could  date  a  letter  Florence.  Then 
she  put  the  little  worry  out  of  her  mind  and  gave 
her  soul  to  the  shop-windows  in  the  Galerie  Charles 
Trois. 

It  was  a  fascinating  gallery,  where  lovely  ladies 
walked,  wonderfully  dressed,  pointing  out  dazzling 
jewellery  in  plate  glass  windows,  to  slightly  bored 
men  who  were  with  them.  Nearly  everybody  who 
passed  sent  out  wafts  of  peculiarly  luscious  per- 
fume. Mary  walked  the  length  of  the  gallery,  so 
as  to  see  all  the  shops  there  were  to  see,  before  de- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      81 

ciding  upon  anything.  She  passed  brilliantly  lighted 
restaurants  where  people  were  having  tea,  some  of 
them  at  little  tables  out  of  doors,  protected  by  glass 
screens;  and  as  she  walked,  people  stared  at  her  a 
good  deal,  especially  the  men  who  were  with  the 
lovely  ladies;  and  the  bored  look  went  out  of  their 
eyes.  Mary  noticed  that  she  was  stared  at,  and  was 
uncomfortable,  because  she  imagined  that  her  gray 
tweed  and  travelling  hat  drew  unfavourable  atten- 
tion. 

But  she  intended  to  change  all  this.  She  would 
soon  be  as  well  dressed  as  anybody,  and  no  one 
would  stare  any  more.  In  one  window  there  were 
displayed,  not  only  gowns,  but  hats  and  cloaks,  and 
exquisite  furs,  all  shown  on  wax  models  with  fash- 
ionably dressed  hair  and  coquettish  faces.  One 
pink  and  white  creature  with  a  startlingly  perfect 
figure  wore  a  filmy  robe  of  that  intense  indigo  just 
taken  on  by  the  sea.  Underneath  a  shadowlike 
tunic  of  dark  blue  chiffon  there  was  a  glint  of  pale 
gold,  a  sort  of  gold  and  silver  sheath  which  encased 
the  form  of  the  waxen  lady. 

"My  hair  is  that  colour,"  Mary  thought,  and 
imagined  herself  in  the  dress.  The  next  thing  was 
to  walk  in  and  ask  a  very  agreeable  Frenchwoman 
if  the  gown  were  likely  to  fit  her  without  alteration. 
"I  must  have  something  at  once,"  Mary  explained. 
"My  luggage  has  gone  to  Italy.' 

The  agreeable  Frenchwoman  was  sympathetic. 
But  yes,  the  dress  would  fit  to  perfection,  not  a 
doubt  of  it,  for  Mademoiselle  had  the  ideal  figure 


82      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

for  model  robes.  And  if,  unfortunately,  the  trunks 
had  all  gone,  Mademoiselle  would  want  not  only 
one  dress  but  several?  And  hats?  Yes,  naturally. 
Other  things  also,  of  the  same  importance.  The 
house  made  a  speciality  of  trousseaux.  Had  Mad- 
emoiselle but  the  time  to  look?  She  need  not  buy 
anything,  or  fear  giving  trouble.  Then  Madame 
added  a  few  compliments  against  which  Mary, 
unaccustomed  to  such  food,  was  not  proof. 

She  bought  the  blue  chiffon  over  pale  gold,  which 
was  hastily  tried  on  behind  a  gilded  screen;  and  the 
wax  lady  was  robbed  of  gold  embroidered  stockings 
and  golden  shoes  to  match.  There  was  a  hat  of 
dark  blue  with  a  crown  of  silver-threaded  golden 
gauze,  which  was  indispensable  with  the  dress.  To 
wear  over  this  a  long  cloak  of  white  satin  with  a 
wide  collar  of  swansdown,  was  the  dernier  cri  of 
Paris,  Madame  assured  her  customer.  There  were 
other  dresses  and  hats  too,  for  morning  and  after- 
noon, and  even  more  extravagant  dessous  than 
those  Jennings  had  tabooed  in  London. 

After  the  first,  Mary  forgot  to  ask  prices.  She 
was  lost  in  a  delirium  of  buying,  and  ordered  what- 
ever she  liked,  until  her  brain  was  tired. 

She  then  thanked  Madame  charmingly  for  her 
politeness  and  asked  to  have  the  things  sent  home 
at  once. 

But  yes,  they  should  go  on  the  moment.  And 
would  Mademoiselle  pay  now,  or  at  her  hotel? 

Mary  laughed  at  herself,  because  she  had  for- 
gotten about  paying.  It  might  as  well  be  now,  as 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       83 

she  wished  to  go  farther  and  get  some  gloves. 
Deftly  Madame  made  out  the  account.  It  came  to 
three  thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety  francs. 

When  Mary  had  mentally  turned  francs  into 
pounds  she  was  a  little  startled;  but  luckily,  against 
her  aunt's  advice,  she  had  come  away  with  a  good 
deal  of  ready  money,  English,  French,  and  Italian. 
It  took  nearly  all  she  had  to  settle  the  bill,  but,  as 
Madame  remarked  gayly,  Mademoiselle  had  left 
herself  enough  for  an  evening  game  at  the  Casino. 
This  was,  of  course,  true,  as  more  could  somehow  be 
obtained  to-morrow.  For  the  moment  Mary  had 
forgotten  her  curiosity  about  the  pleasant,  basking 
animal  in  the  garden,  but  she  decided  that,  after 
dinner  —  which  she  must  have  soon,  as  she  was  al- 
ready beginning  to  be  hungry  —  she  would  walk 
into  the  monster's  smiling  mouth. 


VI 

PRINCE  GIOVANNI  DELLA  ROBBIA,  known  to  his 
friends  in  Rome  as  Vanno,  went  down  early  to 
dinner  at  the  Paris.  This,  not  because  he  was 
hungry,  but  having  come  to  the  hotel  because  he 
knew  that  his  Juliet  of  Marseilles  was  there,  he  had 
no  intention  of  missing  a  chance  to  look  at  her.  If 
she  did  not  appear  early,  he  would  go  on  dining 
until  it  was  late,  no  matter  how  late. 

Such  a  resolution,  and  just  such  an  adventure  as 
this  into  which  he  had  flung  himself  with  character- 
istic impulsiveness  and  passion,  were  strange  for 
Prince  Vanno,  because  since  a  first  unhappy  love, 
when  he  was  a  mere  boy,  he  had  avoided  women. 
Adventure  and  romance  were  in  his  blood,  the 
Italian  blood  of  his  father,  the  Irish-American  blood 
of  his  beautiful  mother.  But  his  adventures  had 
not  been  love  adventures,  since  that  first  agony 
had  driven  him  for  comfort  to  the  silence  of  the 
desert.  Since  then  he  had  gone  back  to  the  desert  for 
desire  of  great  empty  spaces,  and  the  fire  of  eastern 
stars,  needing  comfort  no  longer  for  a  lost  love. 
That  had  passed  out  of  his  heart  years  ago,  leaving 
no  scar  of  which  he  was  conscious. 

He  had  just  come  back  from  the  desert  now,  and 
an  Arab  astrologer  who  was  a  friend  of  his  had  told 

84 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      85 

him  that  December  of  this  year  would  be  for  him  a 
month  of  good  luck  and  great  happenings,  the  star 
of  his  birth  being  in  the  ascendant.  Almost  it 
began  to  look  as  if  there  might  be  something  in  the 
prophecy;  and  Prince  Vanno,  laughing  at  himself 
(with  the  dry  sense  of  humour  that  came  from  the 
Irish-American  side  of  his  parentage),  was  half  in- 
clined to  be  superstitious.  Astronomy  was  his  love 
at  present,  not  astrology,  and  last  year  he  had  dis- 
covered a  small  blue  planet  which  had  been  named 
after  him  and  whose  sapphire  beauty  had  been 
much  admired.  Still,  because  he  had  always  had 
a  passion  for  the  stars,  and  went  to  the  east  to  see 
them  at  their  brightest,  he  was  tolerant  of  those 
who  believed  in  their  influence  upon  earth-dwellers; 
therefore  he  was  ready  to  yield  with  confident 
ardour  to  sudden  impulses  in  this  the  month  of  his 
star.  Mary  Grant's  eyes  had  looked  to  him  like 
stars,  and  he  had  followed  them.  Already  he  had 
had  one  stroke  of  luck  in  the  adventure,  for  he  had 
been  bound  to  Monte  Carlo  from  Marseilles,  before 
he  saw  her,  not  to  try  his  fortune  at  the  tables,  but 
to  meet  his  elder  brother  and  sister-in-law  who  were 
to  finish  their  honeymoon  close  by,  at  Cap  Martin, 
and  to  stay  for  an  aviation  week  at  Nice,  when  an 
invention  of  his  would  be  tried  for  the  first  time. 
But  if  Mary  had  gone  on  beyond  Monte  Carlo,  he 
too  would  have  gone  on.  Having  plunged  into  the 
adventure,  for  a  pair  of  eyes,  he  was  prepared  to 
pursue  it  to  the  end  wherever  the  end  might  be,  even 
if  he  missed  the  flying  week  and  broke  an  engage- 


86      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

ment  with  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  But  it  was 
luck  that  she  should  be  getting  out  at  the  place  where 
he  had  meant  to  stop  for  his  own  reasons. 

He  supposed,  of  course,  that  she  was  travelling 
with  relatives  or  friends.  Although  he  had  seen 
her  mounting  the  steps  of  a  wagon  lit  apparently 
alone,  this  did  not  argue  that  some  one  who  be- 
longed to  her  was  not  inside.  And  when,  from  the 
window  of  the  train  whence  he  leaned  at  every 
station,  he  saw  her  again  at  Monte  Carlo,  she  was 
surrounded  by  a  crowd.  One  of  the  ladies  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  her  might  be  a  mother  or  aunt, 
one  of  the  men  a  father  or  uncle;  and  it  had  been  the 
same  when  he  followed,  just  in  time  to  see  her  get 
into  the  Hotel  de  Paris  omnibus.  Already  the  ve- 
hicle was  full.  She  was  the  last  in.  His  idea  was 
that,  being  the  youngest  of  her  party,  she  had  waited 
for  them  to  be  placed  before  taking  a  seat  herself. 

He  knew  of  her  now,  having  examined  the  visitors' 
book  at  the  Paris,  that  she  was  "Miss  M.  Grant"; 
that  the  name  was  written  in  a  very  pretty,  rather 
old-fashioned  hand;  that  after  it  came  "London" 
in  the  same  writing.  He  was  sure  the  name  must 
be  hers,  because  it  was  last  on  the  page  before  he 
wrote  his  own;  and  she  had  gone  in  last,  after  every- 
body else,  leaving  the  people  she  was  with  to  do  their 
name-signing  before  her.  Also,  the  other  women 
on  the  page  were  all  "Madame"  or  "Frau"  or 
"Mrs."  He  was  rather  surprised,  somehow,  to 
learn  that  she  was  English.  In  spite  of  her  unusually 
fair  hair  he  had  fancied  that  she  would  turn  out  to 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      87 

be  French,  her  type  was  so  spirituelle,  yet  so 
suggestive  of  "temperament." 

If  he  had  not  been  following  a  pair  of  eyes,  Prince 
Vanno  would  have  gone  to  a  quiet  hotel  in  the  Con- 
damine,  to  be  near  the  aviation  ground,  for,  being 
utterly  unsnobbish,  like  all  Italians  of  great  families, 
he  rather  disliked  "smart"  crowds,  rich  food,  and 
gorgeous  decorations.  But  the  only  way  not  to  lose 
the  stars  he  followed  was  to  keep  near  them.  He 
would  not  for  a  great  deal  have  questioned  the  hotel 
people  about  "Miss  M.  Grant,"  otherwise  he  might 
have  learned  for  how  long  a  time  her  room  was 
engaged,  and,  incidentally,  that  she  was  alone.  But 
as  it  was,  he  had  to  find  out  things  for  himself,  and 
to  do  this  must  be  in  the  same  hotel. 

It  was  only  seven  o'clock  when  he  came  down  from 
his  little  room  at  the  top  of  the  house,  not  nearly  as 
expensive  as  Mary's,  and  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the 
marble  stairs,  which  he  liked  better  than  the  lift, 
to  look  round  the  big  hall.  There  was  no  great 
crowd,  for  most  people  who  had  come  in  from  the 
Casino  were  dressing  for  dinner,  and  Prince  Vanno 
saw  at  a  glance  that  Miss  M.  Grant  was  not  there. 
He  went  on  slowly  through  the  Louis  Seize  tea-room, 
to  the  gorgeous  restaurant  with  its  domed  and 
gilded  ceiling,  its  immense  wall  paintings,  and  glass 
front. 

At  one  of  these  window  tables  —  a  very  small 
one  —  sat  a  lovely  creature,  alone.  A  good  many 
heads  were  turning  to  look  at  her,  so  probably  she 
had  not  long  ago  arrived.  For  an  instant  Vanno's 


88      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  glittering  figure,  and  the 
bowed  face  shadowed  by  an  eccentric  hat,  without 
recognizing  it.  But  it  was  only  for  an  instant. 
Then,  with  a  shock  of  surprise  which  was  almost  hor- 
ror, he  realized  that  this  lovely,  low-necked  bird  of 
Paradise  creature  was  the  same  gentle  girl  he  had 
followed. 

"Dio!"  he  said  to  himself,  and  bit  his  lip.  He 
felt  the  blood  rush  up  to  his  face,  as  if  some  one 
had  given  him  an  insulting  blow,  which  he  could  not 
avenge  because  his  hands  were  tied. 

There  were  two  or  three  other  young  and  beauti- 
ful women  alone,  dressed  with  equal  extravagance, 
their  gowns  as  low,  their  hats  as  big;  only  she,  his 
Juliet,  was  more  beautiful  than  any.  That  was  the 
difference  between  them.  But  was  it  the  only 
difference?  The  young  man,  whose  eyes  still 
reflected  the  golden  light  of  vast  desert  spaces,  asked 
himself  the  question  with  a  sick  sinking  of  the  heart. 
He  had  followed  an  angel,  and  found  her  —  what? 
Because  about  those  two  or  three  others  there  was 
no  question  at  all.  And  why  was  she  here  alone, 
dressed  like  them,  if  —  but  he  would  not  finish  the 
sentence  in  his  mind.  He  resolved  to  study  the  girl, 
and  give  her  the  full  benefit  of  the  doubt,  so  long  as 
there  was  a  ray  of  hope. 

Vanno  had  not  gone  so  far  as  to  fall  in  love  at  first 
sight;  yet  coming  back  from  the  desert  with  his 
heart  open  to  beauty  and  romance,  he  had  been 
willing  to  let  himself  go  to  the  brink,  or  over  it,  if  it 
were  worth  while,  else  he  would  not  have  followed 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       89 

Juliet's  eyes.  But  he  wished  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  white  angel  if  she  were  a  fallen  angel. 
Such  a  one  would  be  easy  to  know,  to  walk  with  and 
talk  with,  whereas  he  might  have  found  it  difficult  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  a  conventionally  brought 
up  girl.  Some  men  might  have  been  glad  to  find 
the  heroine  of  a  romantic  adventure  dining  alone 
at  a  fashionable  hotel  at  Monte  Carlo,  in  a  sheath- 
like,  low-cut  dress  and  a  hat  of  to-morrow's  fashion. 
But  Prince  Vanno  Delia  Robbia  was  sick  at  heart, 
and  dazed  as  by  a  blow 

His  father,  Duca  di  Rienzi,  had  a  strain  of  stern 
asceticism  in  his  nature,  and  even  the  impulsive, 
warm-hearted  American  mother  could  not  wholly 
redeem  from  gloom  the  cold  palace  in  Rome  and  the 
dark  fourteenth  century  castle  at  Monte  Delia  Rob- 
bia. Each  of  these  natures  had  given  something  to 
Vanno,  and  the  differences  were  so  strongly  marked 
that  his  elder  brother  had  said,  "to  know  Vanno 
was  like  knowing  two  men  of  entirely  opposite  char- 
acters, each  struggling  for  mastery  over  the  other. " 
But  even  in  his  asceticism  he  was  ardent.  What- 
ever he  did,  he  did  with  passion  and  fervour,  which 
he  could  laugh  at  as  if  from  a  distance  sometimes, 
but  could  not  change.  And  his  ideas  of  the  right  life 
for  women  were  not  unlike  the  ideas  of  eastern  men. 
Women  should  be  guarded,  kept  apart  from  all  that 
was  evil  or  even  unpleasant.  So  the  lovely  Amer- 
ican mother  had  been  guarded,  somewhat  against 
her  will,  by  the  Duke,  and  she  had  died  while  she 
was  still  young.  She  had  never  talked  to  Vanno  of 


90      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

women's  life  and  girls'  life  in  her  own  country,  for 
she  had  gone  to  the  unseen  land  while  he  was  still 
a  boy.  If  she  had  stayed,  perhaps  he  would  not 
have  had  to  go  to  the  desert  for  comfort,  when  he 
at  twenty  loved  a  woman  of  twenty-eight,  who  flirted 
with  him  until  he  was  half  mad,  and  then  married 
an  American  millionaire. 

The  table  nearest  Mary  was  not  engaged,  for  it 
was  too  early  in  the  evening  for  a  crowd  in  the  Paris 
restaurant.  Vanno  signified  to  a  waiter  his  desire 
for  this  table,  and  was  taken  to  it.  He  sat  down 
facing  Mary,  and  pretended  to  study  the  menu. 
He  hardly  knew  what  he  ordered.  A  waiter  was 
bringing  the  girl  a  small  bottle  of  champagne,  in  an 
ice-pail.  The  man  cut  the  wires,  and  extracted  the 
cork  neatly,  but  with  a  slight  popping  sound.  Mary 
started  a  little,  and  glancing  up  at  the  waiter  smiled 
at  him  gayly,  with  a  dimple  in  each  cheek.  Her  big 
hat  was  placed  jauntily  on  one  side,  and  the  deep 
blue  velvet  brim,  with  the  gauzy  gold  of  the  soft 
crown,  was  extremely  striking  on  the  silver-gold 
waves  of  her  hair.  In  her  wonderful  dress,  which 
showed  a  good  deal  of  white  neck,  she  looked  so 
fashionably  sophisticated  that  Vanno  feared  the 
start  she  gave  at  the  popping  of  the  cork  might  be 
affected.  He  gazed  across  at  her  with  mingled 
disapproval  and  admiration  which  gave  singular 
intensity  to  his  deep-set,  romantic  eyes  as  Mary 
met  them. 

She  was  in  a  mood  to  be  delighted  with  every- 
thing that  happened,  and  it  seemed  a  charming 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      91 

happening  that  the  handsome  young  man  from 
Marseilles  should  have  chanced  to  come  to  this  hotel. 
It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  his  coming  might  not 
be  an  accident,  and  she  was  pleased  to  see  him  again. 

Her  bringing  up,  in  all  that  concerned  her  treat- 
ment of  men,  had  been  neglected;  rather,  it  had  not 
been  given  at  all.  As  a  schoolgirl  she  had  never  met 
any  men  except  a  few  mild  youths  when  visit- 
ing Lady  MacMillan,  and  then  she  had  never  seen 
them  alone.  She  had  thought  herself  a  child,  and 
had  behaved  as  a  child,  in  those  days.  Then  had 
come  her  years  as  a  postulant  and  as  a  novice. 
Men  had  ceased  to  exist  as  influences  in  her  life.  It 
had  not  been  necessary  to  teach  her  what  to  do 
when  in  their  society,  for  it  had  seemed  improbable 
that  she  ever  would  be.  When,  at  the  last  moment, 
she  had  decided  that  after  all  she  "had  not  the 
vocation,"  there  had  been  little  or  no  time  to  pre- 
pare her  for  the  world.  And  she  had  come  out  of  the 
convent  with  no  social  wisdom  except  the  wisdom 
of  kindness  and  courtesy  to  all  fellow-beings. 

Man  was  decidedly  a  fellow-being,  and  Mary,  to 
whom  he  was  interesting  because  entirely  new,  was 
inclined  to  be  very  kind  to  him,  especially  when  he 
had  the  handsome,  almost  tragic  dark  face  of  a 
Romeo  or  a  young  Dante,  and  eyes  like  wells  of 
ink  into  which  diamonds  had  fallen. 

She  was  feeling  childishly  pleased  with  herself  in 
her  new  dress,  for  she  loved  beautiful  things,  and 
knew  next  to  nothing  of  suitability,  provided  the 
colours  were  right.  By  day,  one  had  blouses  and 


92      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

skirts,  and  high-necked  frocks.  At  night,  if  one 
were  in  the  world,  one  wore  low  gowns.  She  had 
learned  this  from  Peter  and  other  girls  at  school, 
and  also  from  Lady  MacMillan.  When  there  were 
entertainments  at  the  convent  for  the  pupils,  as 
there  were  several  times  each  year,  the  girls  put  on 
their  prettiest  clothes.  They  had  low-necked  gowns 
for  the  dances,  at  which  their  partners  were,  of 
course,  invariably  girls,  and  they  said  that,  when 
they  "came  out,"  they  would  have  their  dresses 
cut  lower  and  made  more  fashionably.  Of  this,  the 
sisters  quite  approved  for  their  girls,  whom  they 
trusted  never  to  do,  never  to  wear,  anything  im- 
modest. At  Lady  MacMillan's,  Mary  had  worn 
simple  evening  dress,  before  she  resolved  to  become 
a  nun;  and  in  London  even  Aunt  Sara  and  Elinor, 
with  their  thin  necks,  had  considered  it  necessary 
to  display  more  than  their  collarbones  each  night 
at  dinner. 

Mary,  having  little  money  in  her  schoolgirl  days, 
had  never  owned  anything  very  pretty,  and  now 
she  thought  it  right  and  pleasant  to  make  up  for 
lost  time.  The  "Madame"  of  the  shop  in  the 
Galerie  Charles  Trois  had  earnestly  recommended 
this  gown  and  this  hat  for  dinner  and  the  Casino; 
therefore  Mary  was  sure  that  her  costume  must  be 
as  suitable  as  it  was  beautiful,  and  that  she  was  quite 
"in  the  picture,"  in  this  magnificent  room.  She 
admired  the  lovely,  perfumed  ladies  with  wonderful 
complexions  and  clothes,  at  neighbouring  tables, 
and  was  thankful  that  she  looked  not  too  unlike 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      93 

them.  She  hoped  that  she  might  become  acquainted 
with  at  least  one  or  two  of  the  prettiest  before  long, 
because  it  must  be  pleasant  to  make  friends  in  hotels 
with  other  people  who  were  alone  like  one's  self. 
Peter  also  had  admired  the  lovely  ladies  with 
wonderful  complexions  and  clothes  who  chose  to 
live  in  the  best  hotels  at  Monte  Carlo;  but  she  ad- 
mired them  in  a  different  way,  with  a  kind  of  fear- 
ful fascination.  And  she  had  never  talked  of  them 
to  Mary.  One  did  not  talk  to  Sister  Rose  of  such 
things. 

Mary  was  glad  that  the  Dante  young  man  (she 
began  to  call  him  thus,  for  his  profile  really  was  like 
the  poet's,  and  after  all  too  stern  for  Romeo)  could 
see  her  in  this  dress  and  hat,  after  having  a  sight  of 
her  first  in  the  tweed,  which  she  had  now  grown  to 
detest.  It  really  did  seem  as  if  he  remembered, 
for  he  looked  at  her  with  a  straight  look,  almost  as 
if  he  were  asking  a  grave,  important  question.  She 
was  afraid  that  he  must  be  unhappy,  for  certainly  his 
eyes  were  tragic,  if  they  were  not  reproachful;  and 
of  course  they  couldn't  be  reproachful,  as  he  didn't 
know  her,  and  had  nothing  to  be  reproachful  about. 

The  waiter  who  served  her  was  a  charming  per- 
son, with  delightful  manners,  almost  like  those  of 
the  Frenchman  who  had  been  kind  to  her  on  the 
way  to  Paris.  He  recommended  things  on  the  menu, 
which  turned  out  to  be  exquisite.  They  were  the 
most  expensive,  also,  but  Mary  did  not  know  that. 
It  seemed  quite  odd  that  one  should  have  to  pay 
for  food  at  all,  for  always  it  had  appeared  to  come 


94      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

as  a  matter  of  course,  like  the  air  one  breathed. 
When  he  advised  her  sympathetically  to  try  a 
little  champagne,  refreshed  with  ice,  she  would 
have  been  grieved  to  hurt  his  feelings  by  refusing, 
even  if  she  had  not  rather  wanted  to  know  what 
champagne  was  like.  People  in  books  drank  it 
when  they  wished  to  be  merry  and  enjoy  themselves, 
and  it  made  their  eyes  bright  and  their  cheeks  red. 
Mary  had  had  the  chance  of  reading  very  few  novels, 
but  she  recalled  this  bit  of  useful  knowledge  con- 
cerning champagne. 

She  tasted  it,  and  found  it  nice,  deliciously  cold 
and  sparkling.  No  wonder  it  made  the  eyes  bright! 
But  after  all,  she  could  not  drink  much,  though  it 
seemed  a  shame  to  waste  anything  so  good.  "You 
can  have  the  rest,"  she  said  to  the  waiter,  when  she 
had  finished  her  first  glass.  He  was  surprised,  for 
most  ladies,  he  noticed,  could  finish  two  or  three 
glasses,  or  even  more. 

Again  the  man  with  the  profile  of  a  young  Dante 
was  looking  at  her  with  the  grave,  anxious  look  that 
puzzled  her.  She  met  his  eyes  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time,  and  was  so  sorry  for  his  apparent  un- 
happiness  where  every  one  else  seemed  merry,  that 
she  half  smiled,  very  sweetly  and  gently,  as  one 
would  smile  at  a  gloomy  child. 

The  man  did  not  return  her  kindness.  An  angry 
flash  lit  his  eyes,  and  he  looked  extremely  haughty 
and  unapproachable,  no  longer  a  lonely  figure  need- 
ing sympathy,  but  a  high  personage.  Mary  lowered 
her  lashes,  abashed;  and  when  she  did  this  Vanno, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       95 

who  was  on  the  point  of  hating  her  because  she 
was  not  the  white  angel  he  had  thought,  doubted 
again,  and  was  more  bewildered  than  ever.  Her 
friendly  smile  had  been  sweet,  and  he,  who  was  here 
only  because  of  her,  had  quenched  its  light!  He 
regretted  passionately  his  own  ungraciousness,  no 
matter  what  the  girl  might  be.  And  she  looked  so 
young,  her  eyes  so  full  of  sea  and  heaven!  On 
what  errand  had  she  come  alone  to  this  place?  He 
determined  that  he  would  know,  and  soon. 


VII 

MARY  ordered  coffee  in  the  hall,  because  some- 
thing of  her  delight  in  the  gay  restaurant  had  been 
crushed  out  by  Vanno's  snub.  She  was  no  longer 
at  peace  under  his  eyes,  and  wished  to  avoid  meet- 
ing them  again,  so  it  was  pleasanter  to  go  away. 
But  even  in  the  hall  she  could  not  forget  him,  as 
she  had  forgotten  him  after  Marseilles.  When 
he  too  came  out  from  the  restaurant,  not  long  after, 
she  saw  him,  though  he  was  at  a  distance,  saw  him 
without  even  turning  her  eyes;  and  she  thought 
how  tall  he  was,  and  how  much  a  man,  although 
slender  to  the  point  of  leanness.  He  sat  on  a  sofa 
in  the  hall,  and  ordered  coffee.  Mary  knew,  though 
she  did  not  look  at  him  again,  and  interested  herself 
instead  in  other  people. 

All  those  who  came  from  dinner,  except  the  Prince, 
drank  their  coffee  and  went  out.  Some  went  by 
the  front  door,  taking  the  direction  of  the  Casino. 
Others  disappeared  into  an  unknown  part  of  the 
hotel;  and  so  many  chose  this  way,  that  Mary 
inquired  of  a  passing  waiter  where  they  were  all 
going.  "To  the  Casino,  Mademoiselle,  by  the 
underground  passage,  to  avoid  the  night  air,"  the 
servant  answered. 

To   the   Casino.     Everybody   was  going  to   the 

96 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      97 

Casino.  It  was  time  that  Mary  should  go  to  the 
Casino,  too.  She  had  brought  down  her  new  white 
cloak  with  the  swansdown  collar,  and  asked  a  liveried 
man  to  put  it  aside  for  her  while  she  dined.  Now 
she  claimed  it  again,  and  having  no  fear  of  the 
"night  air,"  walked  out  into  the  azure  flood  which 
had  overflowed  the  fantastic  fairyland  like  deep, 
blue  water.  The  gardens  lay  drowned  in  this 
translucent,  magic  sea,  and  the  coolness  of  the  sunset 
hour  had  been  mysteriously  followed  by  a  balmy 
warmth,  like  the  temperature  of  a  summer  night 
in  England. 

There  were  as  many  people  in  the  Place  as  there 
had  been  in  the  afternoon,  and  all  those  who  were 
not  sitting  on  garden  seats  looking  at  the  Casino 
were  walking  toward  the  Casino,  or  just  coming 
out  of  the  Casino.  The  eyes  of  the  big,  horned 
animal  were  blazing  with  light,  and  glared  in  the 
blue  dusk  with  the  hard,  bright  stare  of  the  gold 
eyes  in  a  peacock's  tail.  Windows  of  the  Riviera 
Palace  on  the  hill  above  were  like  orange-coloured 
lanterns  hung  against  an  indigo  curtain;  and  in  the 
Place  itself  bunches  of  vivid  yellow  lights,  in  globes 
like  illuminated  fruit  set  on  tall  lamp  posts,  lit  the 
foreground  of  the  strange  picture  with  unnatural 
brilliance.  Grass  and  trees  were  a  vivid,  arsenical 
green,  almost  vicious  yet  beautiful,  and  the  flow- 
ers gleamed  like  resting  butterflies.  The  summer 
warmth  of  the  air  had  a  curiously  tonic  and  exciting 
quality.  It  seemed  to  have  gathered  into  its  breath 
the  sea's  salt,  the  luscious  sweetness  of  heavy  white 


98      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

datura  bells  dangling  among  dark  leaves  in  the 
gardens,  an  aromatic  tang  of  pepper  trees  and 
eucalyptus,  and  a  vague,  haunting  perfume  of 
women's  hair  and  laces.  These  mingling  odours, 
suggested  to  the  senses  rather  than  apprehended  by 
them,  mounted  to  Mary's  brain,  and  set  her  heart- 
strings quivering  with  unknown  emotions  sweet  as 
pleasure  and  keen  as  pain. 

As  she  went  slowly  down  the  hotel  steps  to  walk 
across  the  Place  her  eyes  held  a  new  expression. 
When  she  had  first  told  herself  that  she  could  not 
stay  at  the  convent,  they  had  asked,  looking  to- 
ward the  world,  "What  is  life?"  Now  they  said, 
"  I  have  begun  to  live,  and  I  will  go  on,  on,  no  matter 
where,  because  I  must  know  what  life  means." 

Her  cheeks  were  burning  still  from  the  first  cham- 
pagne she  had  ever  tasted,  and  the  sweet  air  cooled 
them  pleasantly.  Seeing  a  number  of  people  on 
benches  opposite  the  Casino,  she  decided  to  sit  down 
for  a  few  minutes  before  going  in.  None  of  these 
benches  was  empty,  but  one  was  unoccupied  save 
for  a  young  man  and  a  girl,  who  sat  at  one  end. 
Mary  rather  timidly  took  the  other  corner,  but  the 
couple,  after  giving  her  a  long  stare,  returned  to 
their  conversation  as  if  she  were  no  more  than  a 
shadow. 

"This  is  the  last,  last  straw!"  the  man  grumbled, 
in  English.  "I  thought  there  was  one  missing." 

"They  never  forget  to  add  it  to  the  rest,"  said  the 
girl. 

"Not  they,"  he  echoed.     "And  I  wasn't  doing 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      99 

so  badly  at  one  time.  I've  a  mind  to  apply  for  the 
viatique." 

"I  shouldn't  have  the  courage." 

"Oh,  I  should.  I'd  like  to  get  something  out  of 
them.  I  hate  the  Riviera,  anyhow.  There's  too 
much  scenery  all  over  the  place.  No  rest  for  the 
eye." 

"But  supposing  you  change  your  mind,  and  want 
come  back  and  try  your  luck?  You  couldn't, 
if  you'd  taken  the  viatique." 

"Yes  I  could  —  when  I'd  paid  it  back.  It's 
supposed  to  be  a  loan,  you  know,  which  you  have  to 
repay  before  you're  allowed  to  play  again." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know!" 

A  group  of  young  men  walked  past,  laughing. 
"Never  saw  such  a  run  of  luck,"  said  one.  "Seven- 
teen on  red  and  I  was  on  it  from  the  first.  Glorious 
place,  Monte!  Let's  drink  its  health!" 

They  turned,  stared  with  interest  at  Mary,  and 
passed  on,  lowering  their  voices.  She  caught  the 
words  "something  new,"  but  there  was  no  sense 
in  them  for  her  ears.  She  saw  the  Dauntreys 
hurrying  to  the  Casino,  with  Mrs.  Collis  and  her 
daughter,  and  Dodo  Wardropp.  Two  men  were 
with  them,  both  young,  and  one  rather  distinguished 
looking.  All  were  too  deeply  absorbed  in  them- 
selves and  each  other  to  notice  her.  The  ladies 
were  charmingly  dressed,  and  so  were  most  of  the 
women  who  passed,  all  going  quickly  like  the  figures 
of  a  cinematograph;  but  some  were  of  the  strangest 
possible  types.  Mary  said  to  herself  that  they 


100    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

must  be  infinitely  more  interesting  in  their  own 
secret  selves  than  lookers  on  could  ever  know. 
The  hidden  realities  in  all  these  passionately  ego- 
tistic selves  came  to  her  as  she  sat  watching,  in 
attractive  or  repellent  flashes  of  light.  Then  she 
lost  the  secret  again,  and  they  became  mere  puppets 
in  a  moving  show.  The  only  real  thing  was  the 
Casino,  and  she  began  to  study  the  large  bright  face 
of  it. 

Although  Mary  had  never  travelled  till  now,  she 
knew  something  of  architecture  from  beautiful 
pictures  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  and  Egypt, 
and  of  the  world's  noblest  cathedrals,  which  deco- 
rated the  schoolroom  walls  at  St.  Ursula's-of-the- 
Lake.  This  building,  it  seemed  to  her,  was  of  no 
recognized  type  of  architecture.  It  was  neither 
classic  nor  Gothic:  not  Renaissance,  Egyptian,  nor 
Moorish.  It  gave  the  impression  of  being  a  mere 
fantastic  creation  of  a  gay  and  irresponsible  brain. 
If  a  confectioner  accustomed  to  work  in  coloured 
sugars  were  to  dream  of  a  superlative  masterpiece, 
his  exalted  fancy  might  take  some  such  shape  as 
this. 

The  irregular,  cream-coloured  facade  was  broken 
up  into  many  separate  parts  by  pillars  and  frenzied 
ornaments  of  plaster,  and  there  had  been  addition 
after  addition,  stretching  away  long  and  low  to  the 
left.  A  row  of  large  windows,  discreetly  veiled  so 
that  no  shadows  could  be  cast  from  within,  glowed 
with  warm  yellow  light.  Their  refusal  to  betray 
any  hint  of  what  passed  on  the  other  side  suggested 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     101 

a  hidden  crowd  busy  with  some  exciting,  secret 
pleasure.  Along  the  cornice  of  the  newer  portions 
at  the  left  of  the  original  Casino  were  perched 
bronze  youths  with  golden  wings,  their  hands  hold- 
ing aloft  bunches  of  golden  flowers.  Two  towers 
meretriciously  mosaiced  with  coloured  tiles  balanced 
the  centre  of  the  higher  and  middle  building,  and  a 
portico  of  iron  and  glass,  ornate  yet  banal  as  ,the 
architecture  of  a  railway  station,  protected  the 
carpeted  steps  and  the  three  large  doors  which 
were  grouped  closely  together,  doors  through  which 
people  constantly  passed  in  and  out  like  bees  at  the 
entrance  to  a  hive.  In  the  pensive  sweetness  of  the 
semi-tropical  night,  this  fantastic  erection  in  plaster 
and  gilding  and  coloured  ornaments  seemed  an 
outrage,  a  taunt,  a  purposeful  affront;  and  yet  — 
the  very  violence  of  the  contrast,  its  outrageousness, 
gave  it  a  kind  of  obsessing  charm. 

Unseen  from  where  Mary  sat,  the  Mediterranean 
sighed  upon  its  ancient  rocks.  A  faint  breath  of  the 
mysteriously  perfumed  air  stirred  the  exotic  palms 
over  her  head  and  made  their  fronds  rub  against 
each  other  gratingly,  as  if  some  secret  signal  were 
being  carried  on  from  one  to  another.  Turning 
to  right,  to  left,  or  to  look  behind  her,  dimly  seen 
mountains  soared  toward  a  sky  that  deepened  from 
asphodel  to  the  dark  indigo  of  a  star-powdered 
zenith.  Eastward  in  the  distance  ran  a  linked  chain 
of  lights  along  the  high  road  that  led  to  Italy;  and 
a  bright  cluster  like  a  knot  of  fireflies,  pulsing  on 
the  breast  of  a  mountain,  marked  the  old  hill- 


102    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

village  of  Roquebrune.  Kindly  enveloping  nature 
was  so  sane  and  wholesome  in  her  vast  wisdom 
and  stillness  that  the  sugar-cake  Casino  and  all  its 
attendant  artificialities  struck  into  the  brooding 
peace  a  shrill  note  of  challenging  incongruity.  The 
little  sparkling  patch  of  light  and  colour  that  was 
Monte  Carlo  proclaimed  that  it  was  there  for  some 
extraordinary  and  powerful  purpose,that  its  bizarre 
beauty  was  dedicated  to  exceptional  uses;  and  it 
occurred  to  Mary  that  the  temple  of  Chance  must 
after  all  diverge  from  every  rule  of  architecture  in 
order  to  stamp  its  meaning  on  the  mind.  The 
feverish  decorations  began  to  express  to  her  the 
fever  of  gambling,  and  even  to  create  a  desire  for 
it.  She  felt  this  longing  grow  more  insistent,  like 
strains  of  exciting  music  that  swelled  louder  and 
louder;  and  suddenly  in  the  midst  she  seemed  to 
hear  Peter's  voice  saying,  "What  if  it  should  be  true, 
the  thing  your  father  was  afraid  of?" 

What  if  it  were  true?  How  could  she  tell?  In 
his  last  terrible  letter  he  had  reminded  her  that  she 
had  wild  blood  in  her  veins,  and  told  her  to  "be 
careful." 

She  had  thought  when  hearing  Peter's  descrip- 
tions of  the  Riviera  that  the  gambling  part  of  life 
there  would  interest  her  least  of  all,  but  already  she 
was  under  the  spell  of  the  Casino.  It  drew  her 
toward  it,  as  if  Fate  sat  hiding  behind  the  veiled 
bright  windows,  just  as  Monte  Carlo  had  called 
irresistibly,  forcing  her  to  get  out  of  the  train  when 
she.  had  meant  to  go  on.  She  began  to  doubt  her 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     103 

own  nature,  her  own  courage  and  strength  of  will. 
She  thought  of  what  was  passing  on  the  other  side 
of  the  cream-white  walls  as  if  it  were  a  battle  into 
which  she  was  compelled  to  plunge,  and  she  imagined 
that  thus  a  young  soldier  might  feel  in  a  first  en- 
gagement —  tremulous,  and  almost  sick  with  anxiety 
which  was  not  quite  fear. 

Her  heart  beating  fast,  she  jumped  up,  and  crossing 
the  road  resolutely  mounted  the  steps  which  were 
guarded  by  tall,  fine  men  in  blue  livery.  Inside 
the  doors  which  she  had  watched  so  long  she  found 
herself  entering  an  outer  lobby.  Beyond  was 
another,  also  kept  by  liveried  men.  A  room  led 
off  this,  and  Mary  could  see  people  leaving  their 
wraps  with  attendants  who  stood  behind  counters. 
She  parted  with  her  cloak,  and  was  given  a  metal 
disc  bearing  a  number.  Near  by,  a  French  couple, 
who  looked  like  bride  and  groom,  were  examining 
their  discs,  and  telling  each  other  that  it  would  be 
tempting  Providence  not  to  stake  money  on  such 
numbers  as  onze  and  dix-sept.  At  this,  Mary  glanced 
again  at  her  bit  of  metal.  Its  number  was  124. 
She  remembered  hearing  from  Peter  that  in  the 
game  of  roulette  it  was  a  favourite  "tip"  to  bet  on 
the  number  representing  your  age.  Peter  spurned 
the  idea  as  silly  and  childish;  but  Mary  thought 
it  might  do  to  begin  with,  as  she  knew  nothing  better. 
Her  age  being  twenty-four,  she  decided  to  adopt 
the  French  bride's  suggestion,  and  bet  on  the  last 
two  numbers  cut  into  her  cloak-ticket. 

Beyond  the  second  lobby,  she  passed  into  a  vast 


104     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

pillared  hall,  where  men  and  women,  not  all  ill 
evening  dress,  were  strolling  up  and  down,  smoking 
and  chatting,  or  sitting  on  leather-covered  benches, 
to  stare  aimlessly  at  the  promenaders,  as  if  they  were 
tired,  or  waiting  for  something  to  happen. 

This  hall  puzzled  Mary,  for  she  had  imagined  that 
beyond  the  two  lobbies  she  would  pass  directly  into 
the  gambling-rooms.  Here  were  no  tables  such  as 
Peter  had  described;  and  the  fact  that  she  must 
go  still  farther  seemed  to  increase  the  mystery  or 
secrecy  of  the  place.  Mary  hesitated,  not  knowing 
which  way  to  turn,  for  there  were  several  doors 
under  the  high  galleries  that  ran  the  whole  length 
of  the  hall.  This  must  be  the  atrium,  where, 
Peter  had  said,  the  "guests  of  Hercules"  were 
accustomed  to  make  rendezvous.  It  was  cool  and 
classic,  a  hall  for  reflection  rather  than  excitement, 
as  if  it  were  intended  for  those  who  wished  to  plan 
a  new  way  of  playing,  or  to  rest  in,  between  games. 

Suddenly  a  man  in  livery  with  a  peaked  cap  threw 
open  a  door  at  the  back  and  past  the  middle  of  the 
hall.  From  it  instantly  began  to  pour  a  stream  of 
people  in  evening  dress,  and  as  they  separated 
themselves  from  the  tide,  they  divided  into  knots 
of  twos  and  fours. 

"Perhaps  they  gamble  in  groups,  or  batches,'* 
Mary  thought,  and  her  heart  sank  lest  she,  being 
alone,  might  not  be  allowed  to  play.  She  could 
not  recall  anything  said  by  Peter  about  this;  but 
she  went  timidly  to  the  door,  and  asked  the  man  in 
livery  if  this  were  the  way  "into  the  Casino." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     105 

"It  is  the  way  into  the  theatre,"  he  informed  her. 
"The  first  act  of  the  opera  is  just  over.  Madem- 
oiselle is  a  stranger  then?  Those  people  will  go 
to  the  roulette  and  trente  et  quarante  rooms  to 
amuse  themselves  for  half  an  hour  till  the  beginning 
of  the  next  act." 

"It  is  the  roulette  I  want,  not  the  opera,"  Mary 
heard  herself  say,  as  if  some  one  else  were  speaking. 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle  has  her  ticket  of  admission?" 

She  showed  him  her  vestiaire  ticket,  and  the 
servant  of  the  Casino  was  too  polite  to  smile,  as  he 
explained  that  something  else  was  necessary  before 
she  would  be  allowed  to  enter  the  gambling-rooms. 
He  pointed  toward  three  swing-doors  at  the  far  end 
of  the  hall,  to  the  left.  Through  two  of  these, 
people  were  going  into  a  room  beyond.  Through 
the  middle  one  they  were  coming  out  into  the 
atrium;  and  as  the  big  doors  swung  rapidly  back 
and  forth  there  were  glimpses  on  the  other  side  of 
a  vast  space  full  of  rich  yellow  light. 

"Those  messieurs  stationed  there  would  stop 
Mademoiselle,  seeing  she  was  a  stranger,  and  de- 
mand her  ticket.  It  is  better  that  she  return  to  the 
bureau,  a  room  opposite  the  vestiaire  where  she  has 
left  her  cloak." 

This  was  an  anticlimax,  after  summoning  courage 
for  the  plunge  into  battle;  but  Mary  returned 
whence  she  had  come,  to  take  her  place  behind 
others  who  waited  for  tickets  of  admission.  She 
listened  intently  to  what  passed,  so  that  she  might 
know  what  to  do;  but  it  was  disconcerting  when 


106     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her  turn  came,  to  be  asked  for  a  visiting-card.  The 
lately  emancipated  Sister  Rose  possessed  no  such 
thing,  and  expected  to  be  sent  away  defeated.  Yet 
a  path  out  of  the  difficulty  was  quickly  found  by 
the  alert,  frock-coated,  black-necktied  official  be- 
hind the  long  desk.  This  charming  young  woman, 
beautifully  and  expensively  dressed,  was  not  one 
who  deserved  to  be  discouraged  from  entering  the 
Casino.  All  she  need  do  was  to  give  her  full  name 
and  nationality,  also  her  place  of  residence.  Gladly 
she  obeyed;  and  holding  in  her  hand  a  carte  du  jour 
on  which  she  had  written  her  own  name,  at  last 
she  had  the  right  of  entrance. 

There  was  still  one  more  mistake  to  make,  how- 
ever, and  she  promptly  made  it,  attempting  to  pass 
through  the  right-hand  swing-door.  But  no!  It 
was  for  season-ticket  holders.  She  must  go  to  the 
left.  The  middle  door  was  for  those  coming  out. 
A  fat  man,  hurrying  brusquely  in  before  her,  let 
the  swing-door  slam  in  her  face.  "Le  joueur  n'a 
ni  politesse,  ni  sexe,"  was  a  proverb  of  the  "Rooms" 
which  Mary  Grant  had  never  heard,  but  would 
come  to  understand. 

She  was  on  the  threshold  of  an  enormous  room, 
magnificently  proportioned,  hung  with  lustrous 
chandeliers,  and  divided  by  an  archway  into  two 
sections.  The  farther  part  was  much  larger  than 
that  which  she  had  entered,  and  more  sumptuous 
in  decoration;  but  the  whole  was  flooded  with  a 
peculiar  radiance  which  turned  everything  to  gold. 
It  was  far  mellower  than  the  light  of  the  atrium,  or 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     107 

the  splendid  rooms  of  the  hotel.  It  had  actual 
colour  like  honey,  or  the  pinky -golden  skin  of 
apricots.  It  was  bright,  yet  the  impression  it  made 
on  the  mind  was  of  softness  rather  than  brilliance; 
and  the  shining  atmosphere  of  the  room,  instead 
of  being  clear,  seemed  charged  with  infinitesimal 
particles  of  floating  gold,  like  motes  in  rays  of 
sunshine.  The  tables,  under  darkly  shaded,  low- 
hanging  lamps,  gave  the  effect  of  sending  a  yellow 
smoke,  like  incense,  up  to  the  height  of  the  great 
dazzling  chandeliers.  It  was  almost  as  if  the  hands 
of  players  in  fingering  gold  pieces  day  after  day, 
year  after  year  for  generations,  had  rubbed  off 
minute  flakes  which  hung  like  a  golden  haze  in  the 
air. 

It  appeared  to  Mary's  eyes,  taking  in  the  whole 
and  not  dwelling  upon  details,  that  everything  in 
the  farther  part  of  the  vast  domed  room  was  of 
gold:  different  shades  of  gold;  dark,  old  gold,  the 
richer  for  being  tarnished:  bright,  glittering,  guinea 
gold:  greenish  gold,  and  gold  of  copper  red. 

No  other  colour  could  have  been  as  appropriate 
here. 

The  air  was  not  offensively  dead,  but  it  was  lan- 
gorously  asleep.  Many  different  perfumes  haunted 
and  weighed  it  down;  but  there  was  some  underly- 
ing, distinctive  odour  which  excited  the  nerves  mys- 
teriously, and  sent  the  blood  racing  through  the  veins. 

"It  is  the  smell  of  money,"  Mary  said  to  herself. 

Just  inside  the  entrance  doors,  on  either  side,  was 
a  large  table  round  which  people  sat  or  stood. 


108     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Those  standing  behind  the  chairs  of  the  seated  ones 
were  at  least  two  rows  deep,  crowded  tightly  to- 
gether. Beyond  were  many  other  tables,  thronged 
even  more  densely;  and  ringed  thus  with  closely 
packed  figures,  they  were  like  islands  on  a  shining 
golden  sea,  an  archipelago  of  little  islands,  all  of 
exactly  the  same  size,  and  placed  at  equal  distances. 

Mary,  hardly  knowing  what  to  expect  from  Peter's 
rather  vague  and  disjointed  descriptions,  had  dimly 
fancied  clamour  and  confusion  bursting  upon  eyes 
and  ears  on  the  instant  of  entering  the  gambling- 
rooms.  But  the  silence  of  the  place  was  as  haunting 
and  mystery-suggesting  as  the  indefinable  odour, 
and  more  thrilling  to  the  imagination  than  the 
loudest  noise. 

She  who  had  been  Sister  Rose  was  horrified  to 
find  herself  thinking  of  a  cathedral  lighted  for  a 
midnight  mass.  Almost,  she  expected  organ  music 
to  peal  out. 

Slowly  she  moved  down  the  room,  past  the  first 
tables,  and,  as  she  walked,  the  muffled,  charac- 
teristic sounds  she  began  to  hear  seemed  but  to 
punctuate  and  emphasize  the  silence,  like  echoes 
in  a  cave:  a  faint  rattle  of  rakes,  like  the  rustle 
of  leaves,  and  a  delicate  chink-chink  of  gold,  like 
the  chirping  of  young  birds  just  awakened  by  dawn. 

A  voice  at  each  table  as  she  drew  near  or  passed 
made  some  announcement.  She  caught  the  words 
distinctly  yet  not  loudly  pronounced:  "Faites  vos 
jeux,  messieurs.  .  .  .  Rien  n'va  plus.  Onze, 
noir,  impair  et  manque." 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES   109 

"  Onze  "  was  one  of  the  numbers  the  French  couple 
had  decided  to  play.  Mary  wondered  if  it  had  come 
at  their  bidding,  and  she  wished  intensely  to  see 
what  was  going  on  at  the  tables  inside  those  close 
circles  of  women's  hats  and  men's  shoulders.  But 
to  see,  meant  to  push.  She  was  not  bold  enough 
to  do  that,  and  kept  moving  on  observantly,  hoping 
always  to  discover  some  island  less  populous  than 
others. 

Now  she  began  to  pick  individuals  out  of  the 
crowd.  The  number  of  types  seemed  countless. 
It  was  as  if  each  country  on  earth  had  been  called 
upon  to  contribute  as  many  as  it  could  spare  of 
unusual  and  striking,  even  astonishing,  specimens 
of  humanity,  on  purpose  to  provide  eccentric  or 
ornamental  features  of  this  strange,  world's  variety 
show. 

There  were  some  lovely,  and  a  few  singularly 
beautiful,  women  from  northern  and  southern  lands. 
Peter  had  said  that  one  could  "tell  Americans  by 
their  chins,"  which  were  firmer  and  more  expressive 
of  energy  than  other  chins,  and  Englishwomen  by 
their  straight  noses,  which  looked  as  if  they  had 
been  handed  down  as  precious  heirlooms  from 
aristocratic  ancestresses.  The  mellow  light  gilded 
many  such  chins  and  such  noses,  and  shone  into  soft 
dark  eyes  such  as  only  the  Latin  races  have.  Mary 
fancied  she  could  tell  French  from  Italian  women, 
Spanish  from  Austrain,  Hungarian  from  Russian 
or  German  types.  Almost  invariably  the  pretty 
women  and  the  good-looking  men  were  well  dressed. 


110     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Only  the  plain  and  ugly  ones  seemed  not  to  care 
for  appearances.  But  there  were  more  plain  people 
than  handsome  ones;  and  dowdy  forms  strove 
jealously  to  hide  the  charming  figures,  as  dark  clouds 
swallow  up  shining  stars.  All  faces,  however,  no 
matter  how  beautiful  or  how  repulsive,  how  old  or 
how  young,  had  a  strange  family  likeness  in  their 
expression,  it  seemed  to  Mary;  a  tense  eagerness, 
such  as  before  her  novitiate  she  had  seen  on  the 
faces  of  Lady  MacMillan's  guests  sometimes  when 
they  had  settled  down  seriously  to  play  bridge. 

She  had  expected  to  see  unhappy  and  wildly 
excited  faces,  because,  Peter  said,  people  often  lost 
or  won  fortunes  in  these  rooms  in  a  single  night; 
but  no  one  in  this  moving  crowd  looked  either 
very  miserable  or  very  radiant.  They  did  not 
even  appear  to  be  greatly  excited,  yet  most  of  them 
seemed  absorbed,  as  if  they  listened  for  a  sound 
which  would  mean  something  of  vital  importance; 
or  else  they  had  an  air  of  fearing  that  they  had 
missed  the  all-essential  signal  which  might  never 
come  again. 

It  was  not  the  "high  season"  yet,  Mary's  waiter  at 
the  Paris  had  said,  and  the  "vrai  monde"  would  not 
come  in  its  greatest  rush  until  after  Christmas  and 
the  New  Year;  yet  the  Casino  was  filled  with  a 
throng  of  persons  many  of  whom  looked  immensely 
rich  and  important,  and  none  of  whom,  at  worst, 
was  shabby.  Even  those  who  were  dowdy  ap- 
peared well-to-do.  Mary  saw  that  it  was  not 
necessary  to  gamble  in  groups.  Men  and  even 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     111 

women,  all  alone,  pushed  their  way  through  the 
thick  wall  of  hats  and  shoulders  round  the  table, 
sometimes  being  lost  altogether,  or  sometimes 
emerging  again  in  three  or  four  minutes  to  scurry 
across  the  shining  expanse  of  floor  to  another  table. 
By  and  by,  when  she  began  to  feel  calmer,  Mary 
ventured  near  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
within  full  sight  of  doors  which  led  to  other  rooms: 
a  long  vista  straight  ahead,  where  all  the  decora- 
tions seemed  new  a«nd  fresh,  and  a  light  white  as 
silver  streamed  from  hanging  lamps  like  diamond 
pendants  and  necklaces  for  giantesses  or  goddesses 
of  fortune.  So  different  was  the  colour  of  this 
light  from  that  of  the  first  great  salle,  that  a  silver 
wall  seemed  built  against  a  wall  of  gold. 

Standing  outside  the  circle  at  the  table,  new 
sounds  in-  the  silence  struck  Mary's  ear,  not  em- 
phasizing the  heavy  silence,  as  did  the  delicate 
chinking  of  coins  and  the  announcements  of  roulette 
numbers,  but  jarring  and  ruffling  its  smooth  sur- 
face: little  sudden  rustlings  and  squabblings, 
disputes  between  players  in  French  or  German, 
sharp  and  mean,  yet  insignificant  as  the  quarrelling 
of  a  nestful  of  birds  in  the  ample  peace  of  a  spread- 
ing beech  tree. 

Now  and  then  there  seemed  a  chance  that  Mary 
might  find  a  place  in  the  back  row  at  a  table,  but 
some  one  else,  also  watching,  invariably  darted  in 
ahead  of  her.  Each  time  the  hope  came,  her  heart 
gave  a  bound,  and  the  blood  sang  in  her  ears.  She 
was  astonished  at  her  excitement,  which  seemed 


112     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

exaggerated  beyond  reason,  and  ridiculous,  yet 
she  could  not  conquer  it;  and  the  trembling  that 
ran  through  her  body  made  her  knees  feel  very 
weak,  after  she  had  stood  for  perhaps  half  an  hour. 
Looking  round,  she  noticed  that  there  were  a  good 
many  brown  leather-covered  seats  along  the  mir- 
rored and  gilded  walls.  Most  of  these  were  fully 
occupied  by  resting  men  and  women,  some  very 
old  and  tired  looking,  others  eagerly  counting 
money,  or  jotting  down  notes  in  little  books  or  on 
cards.  As  she  looked,  an  extraordinary  woman 
much  bejewelled,  with  a  face  a  century  old  under 
bright  red  hair,  and  a  hat  for  a  lovely  young  girl, 
jumped  abruptly  up  from  the  seat  nearest  Mary, 
and  almost  ran  to  one  of  the  tables,  where  she  flung 
herself  into  the  crowd,  like  a  diver  into  a  wave. 
Her  place  on  the  bench  was  left  empty,  and  Mary 
took  it,  to  follow  the  example  of  others  and  count 
her  money  while  resting. 

Sitting  down,  she  had  on  one  side  a  young  and 
pretty  woman  in  a  charming  dress  and  hat,  more 
suitable  for  a  past  June  than  a  .present  December, 
even  a  Riviera  December.  Her  face,  too,  which  she 
turned  with  a  gaze  of  interest  on  Mary  and  her 
costume,  was  slightly,  pathetically  faded,  like  the 
petals  of  a  white  rose  gathered  while  in  bud  and 
pressed  between  the  pages  of  a  book.  She  was 
like  a  charming  wax  doll  which  had  lost  its  colour 
by  being  placed  too  near  a  warm  fire. 

On  the  other  side  was  a  very  old  man,  gray  as  a 
ghost,  who  showed  no  sign  of  knowing  that  he  had 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     113 

a  new  neighbour.  Everything  about  him  was  gray: 
his  thin,  concave  face,  his  expressionless  eyes,  his 
sparse  hair  and  straggling  moustache,  his  clothes, 
and  his  hands,  knotted  on  the  back  like  the  roots 
of  trees.  His  grayness  and  the  bleak  remoteness 
of  his  air  made  him  seem  unreal  as  a  spirit  come  back 
to  haunt  the  scene  of  long-ago  triumphs  or  defeats. 
Mary  could  almost  have  persuaded  herself  that  he 
did  not  exist,  and  that  the  pale  form  and  glassy 
eyes  were  visible  to  her  alone. 

She  took  her  purse  from  a  bag  of  gold  and  silver 
beads  she  had  bought  in  the  Galerie  Charles  Trois, 
and  counted  her  money.  She  had  a  little  more 
than  five  hundred  francs,  and  wondered  what  could 
be  done  with  that  sum  at  roulette.  Even  the 
sound  of  tinkling  gold  and  silver  did  not  attract 
the  dead  gray  eyes  to  Mary;  but  perhaps  it  broke 
some  dreary  dream,  for  the  old  man  got  up  stiffly 
as  if  in  protest,  and  walked  away  with  the  gait  of 
an  automaton. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  murmured  in  French  the 
weary  white  rose  on  Mary's  other  side;  "he  brings  bad 
luck.  But  perhaps  he  will  take  it  away  with  him." 

Mary  realized  that  her  neighbour  was  speaking 
to  her,  and  turned  with  a  smile  of  encouragement, 
thankful  to  find  some  one  who  looked  kind,  and 
would  perhaps  tell  her  things. 

The  pretty  woman  went  on,  without  waiting  to 
be  answered:  "He  is  like  a  galvanized  corpse; 
and  indeed,  he  may  be  one,  for  he  ought  to  have 
died  long  ago.  Have  you  ever  heard  his  story?" 


114    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"No,"  Mary  said.     "I  have  only  just  come  here." 

" For  the  first  time?  "  The  other's  face  brightened 
oddly. 

"Yes,  it  is  my  first  time." 

"And  you  are  alone?" 

"Quite  alone." 

"Poor  little  one!     But  that  will  not  be  for  long." 

"I  don't  know  yet  how  long  I  shall  stay." 

"Oh!  I  did  not  mean  quite  that.  But  let  it  pass. 
Shall  I  tell  you  the  story  of  the  old  man?  It  will 
interest  you,  if  you  don't  know  Monte  Carlo. 
Nothing  is  too  strange  to  happen  here.  It  is  only 
ordinary  things  which  never  happen  in  this  place, 
Mademoiselle." 

"I  have  a  friend  who  said  something  like  that. 
Please  tell  me  the  story." 

"I'll  make  it  short,  because  you  will  wish  to  play, 
is  it  not?  And  if  you  like,  I  will  teach  you  the  game. 
That  old  ghost  is  an  Englishman.  Some  day  he 
will  come  into  money  and  a  title.  Meanwhile  he 
is  supported  by  the  Casino.  Always,  morning, 
noon  and  night,  year  in  and  year  out,  he  is  in  these 
rooms;  but  he  is  not  allowed  to  play.  If  he  put 
one  five-franc  piece  on  the  tables,  biff!  would  go 
his  pension.  Twenty-five  years  it  is  since  he  came, 
they  say.  I  have  been  here  myself  but  three,  and 
it  is  a  lif etime !  It  spoils  one  for  other  things,  some- 
how. He  lost  everything  at  the  tables  one  night, 
all  those  years  ago;  so  he  crept  down  to  a  lonely 
place  on  the  shore,  and  cutting  his  throat,  at  the 
same  instant  threw  himself  into  the  sea.  But  he 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     115 

could  not  die.  The  salt  water  brought  him  to  life. 
He  was  found  and  nursed  by  a  fisherman.  When 
the  Casino  people  heard  what  had  happened  they 
had  pity  for  the  unfortunate  one.  They  are  not 
without  hearts,  these  messieurs!  Ever  since  they 
have  supported  him.  When  he  comes  into  his 
fortune,  perhaps  he  will  pay  them  —  who  knows? 
But  in  any  case,  he  will  disappear  and  be  no  more 
seen.  We  think  he  is  a  spy." 

"A  spy?"  Mary  repeated.  "What  would  a  spy 
do  here?" 

"My  poor  amateur!  There  are  many.  For  one 
thing,  they  watch  for  thieves :  people  who  claim  the 
money  of  others  as  their  own,  at  the  tables.  That 
is  quite  a  way  of  living.  Sometimes  it  goes  very 
well.  But  it  is  a  little  dangerous.  Do  you  want  to 
play,  Mademoiselle?  You  are  sure  to  have  luck  on 
your  first  night.  Even  I  used  to  have  luck  at  first." 

"Have  you  none  now?"  Mary  asked,  pityingly. 

"Oh,  I  have  no  longer  even  the  money  to  try  my 
luck  —  to  see  whether  it  has  come  back.  Yet  once 
I  won  twenty  thousand  francs,  all  from  one  louis 
at  trente  et  quarante,  and  at  one  seance.  That  was 
a  night!  a  memory  to  live  on.  And  at  present  it 
is  well  I  have  it  to  live  on,  as  there  is  nothing 
else." 

"Oh,  how  sad,  how  sad!"  exclaimed  Mary.  "If 
only  you  would  let  me  help  you  a  little  —  in  some 
way." 

"You  are  very  good,  but  of  course  I  could  not 
accept  charity,"  said  the  pale  rose,  looking  down  at 


116     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her  faded  lace  and  muslin  finery.  "Still,  if  I  bring 
you  luck  at  the  game,  and  you  win,  I  shall  feel  I 
have  earned  something,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Mary  assured  her,  delighted  with 
the  simple  solution.  "But  it  seems  impossible  to 
get  near  a  table." 

"It  is  not  impossible,"  said  the  other,  a  gleam 
bright  as  the  flash  of  a  needle  darting  from  her 
jade  gray  eyes.  "Many  of  those  people  are  only 
watching.  They  must  give  way  to  serious  players. 
You  will  see!  Shall  it  be  trente  et  quarante  or 
roulette?  Roulette,  you  can  tell  by  the  name,  is 
played  with  a  wheel.  Trente  et  quarante  with 
cards  —  and  for  that  you  must  go  to  another  room, 
for  all  is  roulette  here.  In  the  card  game  a  louis  is 
the  smallest  stake.  At  roulette  it  is  five  francs. 

"I  have  only  five  hundred  francs,"  Mary  an- 
nounced. 

"Then  I  advise  roulette.  Besides,  it  is  more 
amusing.  Never  can  one  tire  of  seeing  the  wheel 
go  round,  and  wondering  where  the  dear  little  white 
ball  will  come  to  rest." 

"Yes,  I  feel  I  shall  like  roulette  better,"  Mary 
decided. 

"That  is  right.  You  have  temperament,  Madem- 
oiselle. Already  you  listen  to  your  feelings.  I 
too,  have  a  strong  feeling.  It  is,  that  we  shall  be 
friends.  My  name  is  Madame  d'Ambre  —  Made- 
leine d'Ambre.  And  yours?" 

"Mary  Grant." 

"Madame  or  Mademoiselle?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     117 

"Mademoiselle,  of  course."     Mary  blushed. 

It  seemed  almost  shocking  that  any  one  could 
even  fancy  she  might  be  married,  she  who  was  just 
out  of  the  cloister,  almost  a  nun. 

"Ah,  here  one  is  so  often  Madame  while  still 
quite  young.  Now,  let  us  follow  that  tall,  chic 
Monsieur  who  has  but  one  eye  and  one  ear.  If 
we  can  play  what  he  plays,  we  are  sure  to  win. 
Often,  when  near  him,  I  have  prayed  that  even  one 
five-franc  piece  might  come  my  way,  for  since  he 
lost  an  eye  and  an  ear  he  never  loses  money.  It 
was  different  when  he  was  here  a  few  years  ago, 
before  he  went  out  to  the  east,  where  he  had  his 
mysterious  bereavement,  no  one  knows  quite  what, 
but  it  is  said  that  he  loved  an  eastern  girl,  and  was 
smuggled  into  a  harem.  In  old  days  he  did  noth- 
ing but  lose,  lose." 

Mary  glanced  at  the  person  indicated  —  a  tall 
man  in  evening  dress,  whose  features  would  have 
been  agreeable  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  black  patch 
over  one  eye  and,  on  the  same  side  of  the  head,  a 
black  pad  over  the  ear,  fastened  on  by  a  thin  elastic 
cord.  Then  she  glanced  away  again,  feeling  faintly 
sick.  "No,  I  can't  follow  him,"  she  said.  "Not 
to  win  a  thousand  pounds." 

The  lady  with  the  pretty  name  smiled  her  sad, 
tired  little  smile.  "You  must  not  turn  pale  for  so 
small  a  thing,"  she  laughed.  "There  are  a  hundred 
people  in  these  rooms  to-night  far  stranger  than  he. 
I  could  tell  you  things!  But  see,  three  Germans 
are  going  from  the  table  in  front  of  us.  When  three 


118     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Germans    move,    they    leave    much    room.     Keep 
close  to  me;  that  is  all  you  need  do." 

Mary  obeyed  in  silence.  She  was  grateful  to  her 
guide,  yet  somehow  she  was  unable  to  like  her  as 
well  as  at  first.  Fragile  as  Madame  d'Ambre  ap- 
peared, she  must  have  had  a  metallic  strength  of 
will,  if  not  of  muscle,  for  quietly  yet  relentlessly  she 
insinuated  herself  in  front  of  other  people  grouped 
round  the  table.  Mary  would  have  retreated, 
abashed,  if  she  had  not  feared  to  hurt  her  new  friend's 
feelings;  but  rather  than  be  ungracious,  she  clung, 
soon  finding  herself  wedged  behind  a  chair  and  in 
front  of  two  German  ladies. 


vni 

"!T  is  a  triumph  to  seize  an  advantage  from  a 
German!"  whispered  the  Frenchwoman,  beginning 
to  look  flushed  and  expectant.  "You  see  that 
woman  in  the  chair  you  are  touching?  She  was  one 
of  the  greatest  actresses  of  the  world,  Madame 
Rachel  Berenger.  Now  she  is  too  old  and  large 
to  act,  so  she  lives  in  a  beautiful  villa,  across  the 
Italian  frontier.  She  is  always  coming  to  Monte 
Carlo  to  do  this." 

"This"  was  scattering  gold  pieces  all  over  the 
table,  as  if  she  were  sowing  peas,  then  changing  her 
mind  about  them,  and  reaching  wildly  out  to  place 
them  somewhere  else.  She  was  dressed  in  deep 
mourning,  and  had  a  very  white  face  which  might 
once  have  been  beautiful.  Now  she  was  like  a  dis- 
sipated Greek  statue  draped  in  black. 

"Faites  vos  jeux,  Messieurs,"  said  one  of  the  six 
extraordinarily  respectable  and  intelligent-looking 
men  who  Mary  saw  at  a  glance  were  employes  of 
the  Casino.  They  were  in  neat  black  clothes,  with 
black  neckties.  Peter  had  told  her  that  the  four 
who  spun  the  roulette  wheel  and  paid  the  players 
were  called  croupiers,  and  that  they  were  allowed 
to  have  no  pockets  in  the  clothes  they  wore  when  at 
work,  lest  they  should  be  tempted  to  secrete  money. 

119 


120     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

But  perhaps  this  was  a  fable.  And  there  was  so 
much  money!  In  all  her  life  Mary  had  not  seen  as 
much  money  as  lay  on  this  one  expanse  of  green 
baize. 

The  man  who  called  on  the  gamblers  to  begin 
staking  put  out  his  hand  to  a  large  wheel  sunk  into 
the  middle  of  the  oblong  table.  This  wheel  was  the 
same,  in  immensely  exaggerated  form,  as  the  toy 
with  which  the  Dauntreys  had  played  in  the  train. 
It  was  a  big  disc  of  shiny  metal,  set  in  a  shallow  well, 
rimmed  with  rosewood.  All  around  its  edge  went 
a  row  of  little  pockets,  each  coloured  alternately  red 
and  black.  The  expanse  of  green  baize  was  marked 
off  with  yellow  lines  into  squares,  numbered  with 
yellow  figures.  The  two  lengths  of  yellow  pat- 
terns going  outward  from  the  wheel  were  facsimiles 
of  each  other,  and  only  sixteen  players  could  sit 
round  the  table,  but  eight  or  ten  times  that  number 
crowded  in  double  or  treble  ranks  behind  the  seated 
ones.  The  high  chairs  of  the  two  inspectors  who 
sat  opposite  one  another  were  usurped  by  tired 
women  who  leaned  against  them,  or  tried  to  perch 
on  the  edges;  and  as  the  croupier  leaned  forward  to 
turn  the  wheel,  arms  were  stretched  out  everywhere, 
scrabbling  like  spiders'  legs,  staking  money  selected 
from  piles  of  notes  or  gold  and  silver. 

The  statuelike  woman  in  black  dashed  on  twenty 
or  thirty  louis,  some  on  numbers,  some  on  a  red 
lozenge,  some  on  the  words  Pair  and  Manque. 

"She  cannot  possibly  win,"  mumbled  Madame 
d'Ambre.  "She  has  lost  her  head  and  staked  on 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     121 

so  many  chances  that  if  one  wins  she  must  lose 
much  more  on  the  others.  It  is  absurd.  Watch  her 
this  time,  and  next  spin  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do 
for  yourself." 

The  croupier  had  picked  a  little  ivory  ball  out 
of  one  of  the  pockets  before  setting  the  wheel  in 
motion.  Then,  as  it  began  to  revolve,  with  a  deft 
turn  of  the  wrist  he  launched  the  ball  in  a  whizzing 
rush  along  a  narrow  shelf  inside  the  rosewood  rim, 
and  in  a  direction  contrary  to  the  whirl  of  the  disc. 

For  several  seconds,  which  seemed  long  and  tense 
to  Mary,  the  wheel  revolved,  the  ivory  ball  dash- 
ing wildly  around  until  the  croupier  proclaimed 
in  his  calm,  impersonal  voice:  "Rien  ne  va  plus!" 
Some  people  reluctantly  ceased  their  feverish  staking 
of  louis,  notes,  and  five-franc  pieces,  but  others 
dashed  on  money  up  to  the  last  instant.  The 
wheel  slackened  speed;  the  ball  lost  momentum, 
and,  rolling  down  the  slope,  struck  one  of  a  lozenge- 
shaped  row  of  obstacles.  It  rebounded,  almost 
sprang  out  of  the  wheel,  hesitated  over  a  pocket,  and 
leaped  into  the  next,  where  it  lay  still. 

"  Vingt-quatre,  noir,  pair  et  passe,"  announced 
the  calm  voice. 

"  Twenty  -four !  My  age  and  my  ticket  number! 
I  meant  to  stake  on  it!"  Mary  cried  out  aloud  in  her 
excitement.  "  Now  it  is  too  late." 

Her  regret  was  so  keen  as  to  be  agonizing.  It 
seemed  that  a  serious  misfortune  had  befallen  her. 
Something  in  her  head  was  going  round  with  the 
ball.  She  felt  as  if  she  ought  to  have  won  all  the 


122     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

money  lying  there  on  the  table,  as  if  she  had  a  right 
to  it. 

People  who  had  won  and  were  having  their  win- 
nings paid  to  them  were  too  busy  to  notice  what 
went  on  behind  their  backs;  but  some  of  those 
who  had  lost  and  had  nothing  to  do  till  the  time 
to  stake  again,  tittered  faintly  and  craned  their 
heads  round  to  look  at  the  girl  who  was  almost  crying 
because  she  had  not  staked  on  twenty-four,  her  age. 
But  Mary  did  not  realize  that  she  was  the  object 
of  any  one's  attention,  for  the  statuelike  woman  in 
black  was  shrilly  insisting  that  she  had  had  the 
maximum,  nine  louis,  on  the  number  24.  "En  plein, 
I  tell  you,  en  plein!" 

"But  no,  excuse  me,  Madame,  you  had  money  on 
black  and  the  second  dozen,  on  pair,  and  on  the 
carre  of  twenty -four;  but  nothing  on  the  number 
itself.  Your  maximum  was  on  twenty-six,"  the 
croupier  explained  firmly. 

"I  tell  you  it  was  on  twenty-four!"  shrieked  the 
actress. 

"Madame  is  mistaken.  You  staked  in  so  many 
different  places,  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  re- 
member." 

"It  is  still  more  impossible  for  you.  Do  you 
intend  to  pay  me?" 

"But  certainly,  for  everything  you  won." 

"And  the  maximum  on  twenty-four?" 

"Not  that,  Madame." 

"I  will  complain  to  the  management!" 

"As  Madame  pleases." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     123 

"I  will  stop  the  game  till  I  am  paid! " 

One  of  the  two  inspectors  left  his  high  chair, 
came  to  the  enraged  lady  and  attempted  to  soothe 
her.  She  looked  magnificent  in  her  passion,  ten 
years  having  fallen  like  a  mask  from  the  marble 
face. 

The  croupier,  who  had  paid  her  for  several  bets 
won,  attempted  to  go  on  with  his  duties.  People, 
some  delighting  in  the  "row,"  others  annoyed  at 
the  delay,  placed  their  stakes,  but  she,  a  lioness  at 
bay,  stared  furiously  without  putting  a  piece  on  the 
table.  As  the  disc  turned,  however,  she  pounced. 
She  threw  a  louis  into  the  wheel.  But  the  croupier, 
without  changing  countenance,  took  out  the  coin, 
pushed  it  back  to  her,  and  began  spinning  again. 
In  went  another  louis  and  again  the  croupier  stopped 
the  wheel.  Voices  rose  in  complaint :  Russian  voices, 
German  voices,  English  voices.  "Is  this  going  on 
all  night?" 

"Pay  Madame,"  said  one  of  the  inspectors. 

Quietly  and  with  incredible  quickness  nine  times 
thirty-five  louis  were  counted  out,  payment  for  a 
maximum  on  a  number.  As  the  croupier  pushed 
the  notes  and  gold  across  the  table,  a  beautiful  white 
hand,  blazing  with  rings,  thrust  it  proudly  back 
again.  "That  is  all  I  wanted,"  the  actress  said, 
with  the  air  of  Lady  Macbeth.  "The  acknowledg- 
ment that  I  was  right.  Keep  the  money." 

The  croupier  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  spun 
the  wheel,  with  a  bored  air. 

"Faites  vos   jeux,   Messieurs." 


124     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Shall  I  put  something  for  you  on  twenty-four?" 
hastily  asked  Madame  d'Ambre. 

"But  it  has  just  come." 

"It  may  come  again.  Often  a  number  repeats. 
Shall  I  or  not?  An  instant,  and  it  will  be  too  late." 

With  her  heart  in  her  throat,  Mary  handed  the 
Frenchwoman  a  hundred-franc  note  crushed  in  a 
ball.  Madame  d'Ambre  asked  a  croupier  near 
where  she  stood  to  stake  the  money.  He  did  so, 
just  in  time.  The  ball  slipped  into  the  pocket  of 
number  21.  "Too  bad!  But  better  luck  next 
time.  Will  you  try  a  simple  chance,  red  or  black, 
for  instance?  Or  one  of  the  dozens?" 

"No,  twenty-four  again,"  answered  a  voice  that 
Mary  hardly  knew  as  her  owji.  "I  must!"  With 
a  trembling  hand,  she  gave  her  friend  nine  louis. 
"That's  the  maximum  for  a  number,  you  said,"  she 
faltered.  "Please  put  it  on." 

"But  all  your  money  will  soon  be  gone  at  this 
rate.  A  louis  would  bring  you  thirty -five 

"No,  no,  the  maximum!" 

Madame  d'Ambre,  aided  by  her  croupier-neigh- 
bour, obeyed. 

A  strange  golden  haze  floated  before  Mary's  eyes. 
She  could  not  see  through  it.  She  tried  to  tell  her- 
self, as  the  big  wheel  spun,  that  this  was  not  im- 
portant at  all;  that  it  did  not  really  matter  what 
happened:  yet  something  inside  her  said,  "It's  the 
most  important  thing  in  the  world,  to  win,  to  win, 
to  make  all  these  people  envy  you.  It  isn't  the 
money,  it's  the  joy,  the  triumph,  the  ecstasy." 


THE    GUESTS    OF     HERCULES      125 

The  ball  dropped.  Mary  could  not  look,  could 
not  have  seen  if  she  had  looked:  but  her  whole  soul 
listened  for  the  croupier's  announcement. 

"  Vingt-quatre,  noir,  pair  et  passe." 

She  trembled  all  over,  as  if  she  were  going  to  if  all. 
She  could  hardly  believe  that  she  had  heard  aright, 
until  Madame  d'Ambre  exclaimed  close  to  her  ear: 
"You  have  won!  I  told  you  that  I  would  bring 
you  luck!" 

The  actress,  petulant  with  persistent  ill  fortune, 
got  up  muttering,  and  pushed  back  her  chair. 
Mechanically  Mary  dropped  into  it.  A  pile  of 
money,  notes  and  gold,  was  moved  toward  her  by 
the  croupier's  rake.  People  were  staring.  She 
was  young  and  beautiful,  and  evidently  half  fainting 
with  excitement.  Besides,  she  had  won  a  large  sum. 
It  was  always  a  good  thing  to  win  on  a  number  en 
plein.  But  to  win  the  maximum  on  a  number! 
That  somehow  did  not  often  happen  except  to 
Russian  grand  dukes  and  American  millionaires. 

Mary,  confused,  and  quivering  like  a  struck 
violin,  took  her  winnings,  but,  supposing  all  the 
money  on  her  side  of  the  table  to  be  hers  also, 
earned  by  the  nine  louis,  began  gayly  to  gather  in 
with  small,  white-gloved  hands  everything  within 
reach. 

A  cry  of  protest  went  up,  half  laughing,  half 
indignant.  Groups  of  non-players  who  had  been 
chatting  or  strolling  round  the  rooms  hurried  to  the 
table  to  see  "what  was  the  row,"  any  sensation,  big 
or  small,  being  an  event  to  receive  thankfully. 


126     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

' '  Mais,  Mademoiselle ! ' ' 

The  small,  predatory  hands  were  arrested :  quickly 
it  was  explained  that  when  a  player  wins  he  has 
not  won  all  the  money  on  the  table.  There  are 
others  also  in  luck.  Mary,  abashed,  but  too  ex- 
cited to  be  deeply  shamed,  apologized  in  pretty 
French.  Those  she  would  unwittingly  have  robbed 
were  disarmed  by  soft  eyes  and  the  appeal  of  dim- 
ples. Even  hawklike  old  women  ceased  to  glare. 
"It  is  her  first  seance,"  was  the  forgiving  whisper. 
The  neat  piles  of  money  which  she  had  reduced  to 
ruin  and  confusion  were  sorted  out  again  between 
croupiers  and  players,  while  the  game  obligingly 
waited.  If  the  offender  had  been  old  and  dowdy, 
every  one  would  have  grumbled  angrily  at  the  bother 
and  delay,  but  as  it  was,  men  grinned  and  women 
were  tolerant.  After  three  minutes'  halt  play  was 
ready  to  begin  again. 

"Better  come  away  now,  Mademoiselle.  It  is  I 
who  counsel  you,"  advised  Madame  d'Ambre.  "It 
is  not  well  to  trust  such  luck  too  far.  Or  else,  play 
with  a  few  five-franc  pieces  to  amuse  yourself.  If 
you  win,  so  much  to  the  good.  If  you  lose,  what 
matter?  You  have  still  the  gros  lot." 

"I  couldn't  do  that.  I  must  trust  my  luck.  I 
am  going  on.  I  shall  play  on  twenty-four  again.  I 
wish  there  were  more  ways  than  one  for  me  .to  back 
it,  and  I  would,"  Mary  cried,  her  cheeks  red  bon- 
fires of  excitement. 

Madame  d'Ambre  shrugged  her  thin  shoulders, 
seeing  her  own  profits  diminished.  But,  a  woman 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     127 

of  the  world,  she  knew  when  it  was  useless  to  pro- 
test. And  perhaps  this  wild  amateur  was  indeed 
inspired.  "There  are  seven  ways  in  which  to  back 
your  number  for  one  spin,"  she  said,  carried  away  a 
little  by  Mary's  spirit.  "En  plein  —  that  is,  full 
on  the  number  as  before;  a  cheval  —  the  number 
and  its  neighbour;  your  own  and  two  others  — 
transversale  plain;  the  carre  —  four  in  a  square; 
six  —  the  transversale  simple:  the  dozen  in  which 
your  number  is;  its  column;  also  the  colour.  Twen- 
ty-four is  black.  If  your  number  loses,  you  may 
win  on  something  else." 

"Very  well.     Maximums  on  all,  please." 

"Impossible!  You  may  not  have  money  enough. 
On  other  chances  the  maximums  are  much  larger." 

Mary,  confused  and  fearful  of  being  too  late,  did 
not  stop  to  reflect  or  argue.  "Nine  louis  on  each  of 
the  chances,  then,"  she  panted. 

Madame  d'Ambre,  reflecting  selfishly  that  even 
if  all  stakes  lost  there  would  still  be  a  good  sum  to 
divide  from  the  last  winnings,  began  placing  money 
in  desperate  haste,  the  croupier  delaying  for  an  in- 
stant his  rien  ne  va  plus,  while  one  of  his  fellows 
helped  in  putting  on  the  gold.  Others,  who  had 
finished  staking  over  each  other's  hats  and  shoulders, 
and  the  whole  ring  of  watchers  outside,  awaited  the 
decision  of  Mary's  destiny  with  almost  as  keen  in- 
terest as  if  it  were  their  own. 

"  Vingt-quatre,  noir,  pair  et  passe." 

A  murmur  rose,  and  went  to  Mary's  head  like 
wine.  This  seemed  a  miracle,  performed  for  her. 


128     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Unconscious  of  irreverence,  she  thought  that  surely 
the  saints  had  worked  this  wonder.  She  forgot 
that,  because  she  won,  others  must  lose. 

"It  is  marvellous!  But  these  blessed  amateurs! 
It  is  always  they  who  have  the  great  luck.  Twice 
running  —  and  after  twenty-four  had  been  spun 
just  before  twenty-one." 

The  numbers  were  all  marked  in  their  right  col- 
ours with  roulette  pencils  on  little  cards,  or  in  well- 
kept  notebooks  by  the  players.  Every  one  knew 
what  had  "come  out"  at  the  table  for  many  past 
coups. 

"If  you'll  back  twenty -four  again,  I'll  go  on  it, 
too,"  said,  in  English,  a  young  man  in  the  chair  at 
Mary's  right.  He  was  a  brown,  well-groomed, 
clean-shaven  youth,  whose  hair  was  so  light  that  it 
looked  straw-coloured  in  contrast  with  his  sun- 
burnt skin.  "It's  en  chaleur,  as  they  say  of 
numbers  when  they  keep  coming  up.  It  may 
come  a  third  time  running.  I've  seen  it  happen. 
Five  repetitions  is  the  record.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"I  meant  to  play  twenty-four  again,  anyway," 
Mary  answered,  with  the  peculiar  soft  obstinacy 
which  had  opened  the  gates  of  Saint  Ursula-of-the- 
Lake  and  brought  her  to  Monte  Carlo. 

"You  are  plucky!" 

"This  time,  surely,  I've  money  enough  for  maxi- 
mums  on  everything,"  Mary  said  to  the  French- 
woman behind  her,  who  was  now  becoming  super- 
stitious concerning  the  luck  of  her  petite  dinde. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Without  protest,  Madame  d'Ambre  selected  from 
the  piles  of  gold  and  notes  now  ranged  in  front  of 
Mary  the  stakes  indicated,  and,  with  a  hand  not 
quite  steady,  placed  those  within  her  reach.  The 
neighbouring  croupier,  faintly  smiling,  obligingly 
did  the  rest,  noting  without  surprise  that  many 
players  were  sportingly,  yet  timidly,  risking  fat 
five-franc  pieces  on  the  amateur's  number.  It  was 
the  sort  of  thing  they  generally  did,  the  imbeciles, 
when  a  player  was  having  a  sensational  run  of  luck. 
But  certainly  there  was  something  magnetic  and 
fatal  about  this  pretty  young  woman,  who  was  new 
to  the  game  and  the  place,  something  curiously  in- 
spiring. Not  only  he  as  well  as  the  gamblers  felt 
it,  but  the  croupier  at  the  wheel.  The  spinner 
felt  in  his  bones  that  whether  he  wished  it  or  not 
he  was  certain  to  spin  a  third  twenty-four. 

A  round  of  applause  went  up  from  perhaps  fifty 
pairs  of  hands  when  the  ball  was  seen  to  lie  once 
more  in  the  pocket  numbered  24.  Mary,  realizing 
that  the  applause  was  meant  for  her,  felt  like  a 
spirit  released  from  its  body.  She  was  a  goddess  on 
a  pinnacle.  This  was  life:  the  wine  of  life.  It 
was  not  the  money  she  thought  of.  All  the  gold 
and  paper  which  had  suddenly  become  hers  was 
nothing  in  itself,  but  what  it  represented  was  victory 
extending  over  the  forces  of  nature.  This  mysterious 
game,  whose  next  turn  none  could  foretell,  seemed 
to  be  yielding  its  secret  to  her.  She  had  the  con- 
viction that  Something  was  telling  her  what  to  do, 
what  would  happen  with  the  spin  of  the  wheel.  It 


would  be  madness  and  a  kind  of  vile  ingratitude  to 
stop  now,  while  the  Something  was  there. 

Hearing  the  applause,  which  meant  a  coup  of  un- 
common interest,  people  came  hurrying  from  every 
direction,  some  even  running,  with  a  peculiar  step 
which  kept  them  from  slipping  on  the  polished  floor. 
Many  had  learned  this  from  long  practice  in  running 
in  with  the  early  gamblers  at  the  morning  opening 
of  the  Casino,  when  it  is  "first  come,  first  served," 
at  the  chairs. 

Those  who  had  been  watching  the  play  at  other 
tables,  or  those  who  had  been  losing,  joined  the 
rush. 

"What  is  she  going  to  do  now,  cette  petite  sor- 
ciere?"  was  the  question.  Hearing  it,  Mary  was 
flattered  to  a  higher  pitch  of  excitement  and  self- 
confidence.  She  must,  she  must  do  something  to 
justify  everybody's  expectation.  The  Casino  was 
hers,  and  there  was  no  world  outside  —  nothing  but 
this  magic  place  of  golden  light  and  golden  coins. 

"What  next?"  inquired  Madame  d'Ambre,  late 
mentor,  now  courtier. 

"I'll  do  whatever  you  do,"  said  the  brown  young 
man,  who  was  English  or  American. 

She  looked  at  the  disc  as  a  seeress  looks  at  a 
crystal.  The  spinner  had  his  hand  on  the  cross- 
piece  of  metal  which  turns  the  wheel. 

"What  does  that  O  mean,  on  the  little  brown 
square  between  the  red  and  black  numbers?"  she 
asked  her  neighbour  gravely. 

"That's  what  they  call  'zero.'     You  can  bet  on 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     131 

it  like  any  number;  but  when  it  comes,  if  you're  not 
on  it,  all  your  stakes  go — biff! — except  on  the  simple 
chances,  when  you  are  put  in  'prison,'  or  else  you 
can  take  back  half.  Lots  of  people  like  zero  better 
than  anything,  because  they  think  the  croupiers 
try  to  spin  it,  for  the  good  of  the  bank.  It's  called 
Vami  de  la  maison" 

"How  nice  and  friendly,"  said  Mary.  "I'll  put 
money  on  zero.  What's  the  maximum?" 

"The  same  as  on  the  other  numbers  en  plein: 
nine  louis." 

"Then  I'll  have  that  on  zero,"  said  Mary. 

Many  players  followed  her  lead,  and  every 
one  was  calling  out  "zero"  and  pushing  or  throwing 
coins  to  the  croupiers  to  be  staked  on  that  chance. 

"Zero!" 

Mary  was  paid  nine  times  thirty-five  louis,  six 
thousand  three  hundred  francs,  and  the  others  who, 
superstitiously  following  her  lead,  had  risked  five- 
franc  pieces  and  louis  on  Vami  de  la  maison,  shared 
her  luck  in  different  degrees. 

"Zero  once  more,  please,  Madame,"  said  Mury 
to  her  companion. 

"But  no!  impossible!     It  will  be  something  else." 

"  Perhaps.     Still  —  I  will  try." 

She  was  right.  Zero  came  again,  followed  by 
louder  rounds  of  applause.  By  this  time  the  whole 
Casino  knew  what  was  going  on.  A  glorified  ama- 
teur, an  English  girl,  was  winning  maximums  on* 
numbers  again  and  again,  in  succession,  at  the  table 
nearest  the  wall-portrait  of  the  architect,  in  the 


132     THE    GUESTS    OP    HERCULES 

Salle  Schmidt.  Non-players  or  discouraged  losers 
bore  down  upon  the  "architect's  table,"  running 
even  from  the  distant  trente-et-quarante  room. 

The  story  sounded  rather  like  a  fairy  tale,  but 
the  enormous  crowd  round  the  centre  of  interest, 
and  the  comparatively  slack  business  being  done  at 
other  tables,  proved  its  truth.  None  of  the  new- 
comers,, even  the  tallest,  could  see,  but  they  could 
hear,  and  they  could  feel  the  thrill  from  the  inner 
circle. 

"And  now,  Mademoiselle?  What  will  you  do? 
Remember,  your  luck  can't  go  on  forever,"  mur- 
mured Madame  d'Ambre,  anxious  to  divide  the 
spoil,  which  might  yet  vanish  like  fairy  gold. 

"I  —  I  will  take  twenty-four  again,  and  every- 
thing round  it." 

Many  players  who  had  money  left,  and  could 
reach  to  put  on  their  stakes,  also  chose  twenty-four. 
And  twenty -four  came  up.  This  was  historic! 
No  one  but  the  Grand  Duke  Michael  and  the  few 
famous  punters  of  the  world  had  such  persistent 
and  consecutive  luck. 

A  chef  de  table  in  a  high  chair  stood  up  and  un- 
obtrusively beckoned  a  footman  hovering  on  the 
far  fringe  of  the  crowd.  Three  minutes  later,  with 
«qual  unobtrusiveness,  more  money  was  brought, 
lest  the  supply  of  the  table  should  run  low.  Few 
noticed,  or  knew  that  anything  unusual  had  hap- 
pened, with  the  exception  of  the  play;  but  Madame 
d'Ambre  had  been  hoping  for  and  expecting  some- 
thing of  the  sort. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     133 

"They  are  afraid  you  will  break  the  bank,"  she 
said,  in  a  stage-whisper  not  meant  to  be  wasted. 
Those  near  her  who  understood  French  glanced 
up  quickly.  Croupiers  smiled  and  said  nothing. 
A  murmur  went  round  the  table,  and  flowed  like 
the  rippling  circles  from  a  stone  dropped  in  a  pond, 
to  the  crowd  which  ringed  it  in. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Mary. 

"Oh,  the  bank  does  not  really  break!  They  do 
not  even  stop  play  in  these  days.  But  they  send 
for  more  money  lest  it  be  needed.  Ah,  the  colossal 
compliment!" 

The  pride  in  Mary's  heart  was  like  a  stab  of  pain, 
almost  unbearable  in  its  intensity.  But  suddenly, 
as  if  the  current  of  her  thought  had  been  broken, 
her  inspiration  seemed  gone.  The  Something  was 
no  longer  there,  telling  her  where  to  stake.  She 
wished  to  play  again,  but  felt  at  sea,  without  a  rud- 
der. Her  unconscious  vanity  rebelled  against  risk- 
ing loss  at  this  table  of  which  she  had  been  the 
queen,  the  idol. 

She  rose,  pale  and  suddenly  tired.  "I  won't 
play  any  more,"  she  said,  in  a  little  voice,  like  a 
child's. 

"Oh,  why?"  asked  the  young  man  with  the  straw- 
coloured  hair. 

"I  don't  know  why,"  she  answered.  "Only  I 
don't  want  to." 

"Your  money!"  exclaimed  Madame  d'Ambre. 
"We  must  have  all  the  gold  put  into  mille  notes, 
or  you  cannot  carry  it." 


134     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

For  an  instant  Mary  had  forgotten  the  money 
and  the  necessity  of  taking  it  away,  but  Madame 
d'Ambre,  who  had  now  firmly  identified  her  own 
interests  with  those  of  her  protegee,  attended  to  the 
practical  duties  of  the  partnership.  She  was  some- 
what disagreeably  conscious  that  the  young  man's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  as  she  collected  her  friend's 
enormous  winnings.  As  people  made  way  for  the 
Frenchwoman  and  her  starlike  companion  to  pass, 
this  man  gathered  up  his  small  store  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  followed.  On  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd 
stood  the  Dauntreys  and  their  party.  Mary  and 
Madame  d'Ambre  passed  close  to  them,  but  the 
heroine  of  the  moment  was  too  intensely  excited 
to  recognize  any  one.  She  walked  as  if  on  air,  her 
hands  full  of  notes,  some  of  which  she  was  stuffing 
into  her  gold-beaded  bag. 

"Why,  it's  the  girl  in  the  train  who  said  she  was 
going  to  Florence,"  exclaimed  Dodo  Wardropp.  "  Can 
she  be  the  one  who's  made  the  sensation?" 

"Yes,  it's  she,"  said  Lady  Dauntrey.  "See  how 
they're  looking  at  her,  and  pointing  her  out.  I 
wonder  if  it's  true  she's  won  thousands  of  pounds?" 

No  one  answered.  Lord  Dauntrey  had  slipped 
quietly  away  from  the  others,  and  found  a  place  at 
a  table  near  enough  to  play  over  some  one's  head. 
This  was  the  first  time  he  had  found  a  chance  to 
test  his  new  system,  except  on  the  toy  roulette 
wheel.  He  began  staking  five-franc  pieces,  and 
writing  down  notes  in  a  small  book.  The  bored 
look  was  burned  out  of  his  weary  eyes.  They 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     135 

brightened,  and  a  more  healthful  colour  slowly  drove 
away  his  unnatural  paleness. 

The  others,  who  had  been  playing  in  the  new 
rooms,  did  not  follow  or  look  for  him.  They  stared 
at  every  one  who  seemed  worth  staring  at.  The 
two  Americans  and  Dodo  expected  Lady  Dauntrey 
to  know  everybody.  It  was  for  this,  partly,  that 
they  were  paying  large  sums  to  her,  and  they  felt  a 
depressed  need  of  getting  their  money's  worth.  So 
far  the  arrangements  for  their  comfort  at  the  Villa 
Bella  Vista  were  disappointing.  Still,  two  young 
men  of  title  were  there,  and  that  was  something, 
although  one  of  them  was  only  an  Austrian  count, 
and  the  other  no  better  than  a  baronet.  But  Lord 
Dauntrey  promised  for  to-morrow  morning  Dom 
Ferdinand  de  Trevanna,  the  Pretender  to  an  historic 
throne. 

Dodo,  according  to  Miss  Collis,  had  "grabbed"  the 
English  baronet,  and  left  her  only  the  Austrian  count, 
who  looked  younger  than  any  man  could  really  be, 
and  had  a  wasp-waist  which,  when  he  bowed  —  as 
he  did  irritatingly  often  —  seemed  liable  to  snap  in 
two.  It  was  if  anything  more  slender  than  her  own, 
and  she  disliked  him  for  it.  Lady  Dauntrey  had 
Mrs.  Collis  on  her  hands,  and  looked  sombrely  dis- 
contented. But  she  waked  up  at  sight  of  Mary. 
The  long,  pale  eyes  between  black  fringes  followed 
the  blue  and  silver-gold  figure  with  silent  interest. 
Then  the  handsome  face  became  subtle  and  greedy. 

As  Mary  was  piloted  outside  the  crowd  by 
Madame  d'Ambre,  four  young  women  separated 


136     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

themselves  hastily  from  the  group  round  the  table, 
and  bore  down  upon  the  pair.  They  were  young, 
or  else  clinging  desperately  to  the  ragged  edges  of 
their  youth,  and  all  four  were  dressed  in  clothes 
which  had  been  beautiful.  They  knew  Madame 
d'Ambre,  knew  her  very  well  indeed,  for  they  called 
her  "Madeleine"  or  "Chere  Lena."  Nevertheless, 
she  did  not  appear  pleased  to  see  them. 

"Bon  soir,  mes  amies,"  she  said  evasively,  and 
would  have  passed  on,  but,  laughingly,  they  stopped 
her.  One,  who  had  a  marvellous  complexion,  large 
black  eyes,  and  bright  golden  hair,  exclaimed,  with 
a  charming  Parisian  accent,  that  they  could  not  let 
their  Madeleine  leave  them  like  that.  They  had 
been  waiting  to  congratulate  her  friend. 

"We  pray  that  thou  wilt  introduce  us,  dear  one," 
the  spokeswoman  suggested.  "Surely  Mademoi- 
selle wishes  to  add  to  her  happiness  by  making  others 
happy?"  She  turned  a  swimming  gaze  upon  Mary. 
"Figure  to  yourself,  Mademoiselle;  we  are  unlucky; 
four  companions  in  misery.  It  is  our  bad  luck 
which  has  united  us.  Our  jewels  are  all  pawned. 
Not  one  of  us  has  eaten  anything  since  the  first 
dejeuner.  And  we  have  a  hunger!" 

Mary  stared,  disconcerted  by  this  tale  of  misfor- 
tune suddenly  flung  at  her  head,  and  scarcely  sure  if 
it  were  not  a  practical  joke.  The  four  young  women 
were  so  charmingly  dressed,  their  hair  was  so  care- 
fully waved,  their  complexions  so  pink  and  white, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  believe  in  their  poverty. 
Besides,  they  could  evidently  afford  perfume,  so 


luscious  that  it  must  be  expensive.  Mary  thought 
that  they  smelled  very  good;  then,  a  little  too  good; 
then,  far,  far  too  good,  and  at  last  almost  unbearable. 

"You  are  joking,"  she  said,  timidly. 

"Indeed  we  are  not,"  replied  another  of  the 
group,  a  red-haired  girl  with  brown,  almond-shaped 
eyes.  "We  so  hope  that  you  will  be  an  angel,  and 
invite  us  all  to  supper." 

"What  nonsense,  Clotilde!"  exclaimed  Madame j' 
d'Ambre.  "We  have  already  an  engagement  for 
supper." 

"Ah,  then  surely,  Mademoiselle,  you  will  share 
your  luck  with  us  in  some  way?  Otherwise,  you 
can't  hope  to  keep  it." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  share  it,"  Mary  said, 
warmly.  "What  can  I  do?" 

The  red-haired  lady  broke  into  gestures.  "She 
who  has  won  a  fortune  asks  us  who  have  nothing 
what  she  can  do  for  us?  How  she  is  amusing,  this 
pretty  English  one!" 

"Would  you  —  might  I  —  that  is "     Mary 

began  to  stammer. 

"We  would  —  you  might!"  Clotilde  finished  for 
her,  laughing. 

"I  wonder  you  have  not  more  pride!"  Madame 
d'Ambre  reproached  the  four,  her  white-rose  cheeks 
flushing  with  annoyance. 

"Pride  does  not  buy  us  supper,  or  new  hats,"  the 
girl  with  golden  hair  reminded  her. 

"Oh,  please  take  these,  and  do  whatever  you  like 
with  them,"  Mary  said  hastily,  her  voice  quivering 


138     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

with  shyness  and  compassion.  She  began  dealing 
out  her  thousand-franc  notes,  and  did  not  stop  until 
she  had  given  one  to  each  of  the  four. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Prince  Giovanni  Delia 
Robbia,  unable  to  resist  his  desire  to  follow  Mary 
to  the  Casino,  came  within  sight  of  her.  This  was 
the  picture  he  saw:  the  strikingly  dressed  girl, 
bright-eyed,  carmine-cheeked,  feverishly  distribu- 
ting notes  to  a  crowd  of  young  women  more  showily 
dressed  than  herself. 

He  turned  away  instantly,  chilled  and  disgusted. 


IX 

OTHERS  were  less  fastidious  than  Vanno. 

The  calm-faced  man  with  black  pads  over  the  left 
eye  and  ear  joined  Madame  d'Ambre,  with  a  lazy 
yet  determined  air,  and  a  glance  of  interest  at  Mary. 
Seeing  the  brown  youth  who  had  been  at  her  table, 
the  elder  man  nodded  to  him.  This  gave  Mary's 
late  neighbour  an  excuse  which  he  had  wanted. 
He  stopped,  and  held  out  his  hand.  "How  are  you, 
Captain  Hannaford?"  he  asked. 

"Hullo,  Carleton!"  returned  the  other.  "Here 
for  the  Nice  flying  week?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Carleton,  who,  beside  Hannaford  the 
Englishman,  showed  by  contrast  his  American 
origin.  His  chin  was  all  that  Peter  had  said  an 
American's  chin  ought  to  be,  and  he  had  keen, 
brilliant  blue  eyes.  Hannaford,  though  taller 
than  he,  was  stouter  as  well  as  older,  and  therefore 
appeared  less  tall.  He  was  of  a  more  stolid  type, 
and  it  seemed  incredible  that  such  an  adventure  as 
that  sketched  by  Madame  d'Ambre  could  approach 
such  a  man.  Yet  for  once,  gossip  and  truth  were 
one.  The  thing  had  happened.  Hannaford  had  lately 
retired  from  the  army,  after  being  stationed  for  two 
years  in  Egypt.  For  months  he  had  lingered  aim- 
lessly in  Monte  Carlo.  Life  seemed  over  for  him. 

139 


140     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

But  time  remained,  and  must  be  killed,  unless  he 
preferred  to  kill  himself.  He  had  met  Dick  Carleton 
in  Egypt  last  year,  where  the  youngest  American 
aeronaut  was  making  experiments  with  a  new 
monoplane  in  a  convenient  tract  of  desert.  At  that 
time  Captain  Hannaford  had  not  worn  the  little 
black  silk  pads.  He  was  grateful  to  the  American 
for  not  seeming  to  look  at  them  now. 

"I'm  here  for  the  flying,  with  a  hydro-aeroplane 
I'm  rather  proud  of,"  Carleton  went  on,  "but  I'm 
not  staying  at  Monte.  I'm  visiting  Jim  Schuyler, 
at  his  place  between  here  and  Cabbe-Roquebrune. 
Lovely  place  it  is.  No  wonder  he  never  bothers 
with  the  Casino,  except  for  concerts  and  opera. 
Have  you  met  him?" 

"No.  But  I  know  him  by  name,  of  course. 
The  names  of  these  American  millionaires  are  all- 
pervading,  like  microbes.  Why  does  he  pitch  his 
tent  on  the  threshold  of  Monte,  if  not  for  the 
Casino?" 

"He  says  lots  of  people  live  about  here  who  never 
play:  and  there  are  other  attractions.  He  has  all 
the  gambling  he  wants  in  Wall  Street:  comes  here 
for  beauty  and  music.  He  gets  plenty  of  both; 
doesn't  go  in  for  society  any  more  than  for  roulette, 
but  seems  to  enjoy  himself,  the  two  or  three  months 
he  does  the  hermit  act  in  his  gorgeous  garden.  He's 
at  the  opera  to-night.  Motored  me  over.  We'll 
meet,  and  go  back  together  to  Stellamare.  Mean- 
while- 

"Meanwhile,  I  rather  guess,  as  you'd  say,  that 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     141 

you'd  like  to  meet  my  charming  —  er  —  acquain- 
tance, and  her  friend." 

"I  never  say  'guess,'  nor  does  anybody  else,  except 
in  books  or  plays,  but  I  should  like  to  meet  the 
ladies." 

"Madame  d'Ambre  is  so  busy  regretting  she  didn't 
get  smaller  change  for  her  protegee's  unforeseen  char- 
ities that  she's  forgotten  us.  I  was  watching  the 
fun  at  your  table,  toward  the  last." 

At  the  sound  of  her  name,  the  Frenchwoman 
turned.  Four  thousand  francs  was  gone  forever, 
but  there  was  as  little  use  in  wailing  over  money 
wasted  as  in  crying  for  spilt  milk,  so  she  smiled  her 
pathetic,  turned-down  smile  at  Captain  Hanna- 
ford,  and  looked  wistfully  at  Dick  Carleton.  Then 
quickly,  lest  further  irrevocable  things  should  hap- 
pen, she  laid  her  hand  on  Mary's  arm.  It  was  a 
gloved  hand,  and  the  glove  had  been  mended  many 
times.  Soon,  it  must  be  thrown  away;  but  perhaps 
that  need  not  matter  now.  There  might  be  a  path 
leading  to  new  gloves  and  other  things.  She  in- 
troduced Captain  Hannaford  to  Mademoiselle 
Grant,  and  he  in  turn  introduced  "Mr.  Richard 
Carleton,  the  well-known  airman,"  to  them  both. 
Madeleine  could  speak  a  little  English,  but  with 
difficulty,  and  preferred  French.  Still,  it  would 
have  been  unwise  to  tell  secrets  in  English  when  she 
was  near. 

Seeing  that  she  had  no  intention  of  passing  on  the 
introduction,  Clotilda  et  Cie.  retired  gracefully, 
each  of  the  four  a  thousand  francs  richer  and  a 


142     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

thousand  times  happier  than  she  had  been  five 
minutes  before. 

"What  about  supper?"  said  Hannaford.  "Gam- 
bling always  makes  me  hungry.  I'm  in  luck  to- 
night. Won't  you  three  be  my  guests  at  Giro's?" 

"You  are  always  in  luck  nowadays,"  sighed 
Madame  d'Ambre.  A  shadow  seemed  to  pass  over 
the  stolid  face  of  the  man,  but  she  did  not  see  it. 
"Naturally  we  accept  the  kind  invitation,  is  it  not 
so,  dear  Mademoiselle?" 

"I  must  be  at  Giro's  anyhow,  about  midnight," 
said  Carleton,  "for  Schuyler  asked  me  to  meet  him 
there  for  a  Welsh  rabbit  after  the  opera.  But 
I'll  be  delighted  to  go  over  and  sit  with  you  till 
he  comes."  He  had  the  pleasant  drawl  of  a 
Southerner. 

"Oh,  you're  very,  very  kind,"  stammered  Mary. 
"But  I"  —  she  hesitated,  and  glanced  appealingly 
at  Madame  d'Ambre  —  "I  think  it's  rather  late, 
and  I  shall  have  to  go  home." 

"Home?"  echoed  Hannaford,  questioningly. 

"My  hotel,"  she  explained. 

As  Madame  d'Ambre  drew  her  friend  aside  for 
a  murmur  of  advice,  the  two  men  looked  at  each 
other,  Carleton  puzzled,  Hannaford  with  raised 
eyebrows.  "I  think  they're  both  charming,"  the 
American  remarked  in  a  low  voice.  "That  little 
Madame  d'Ambre  isn't  nearly  as  pretty  as  Miss 
Grant,  but  she's  fetching,  and  looks  a  bit  down  on 
her  luck,  as  if  she'd  had  trouble." 

"Perhaps  she  has,"   said  Hannaford. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     143 

"But,  dear  Mademoiselle,"  Madeleine  was  plead- 
ing at  a  little  distance,  "why  won't  you  go  to  supper? 
Do!  It  would  be  so  pleasant.  I  have  so  little  hap- 
piness; and  this  would  at  least  give  me  an  hour  of 
distraction." 

"You  can  go  without  me,"  said  Mary.  "Cap- 
tain Hannaford  is  your  friend,  isn't  he?" 

"Ah,  I  see!  The  sight  of  the  poor  afflicted  man 
disgusts  you.  If  you  refuse,  he  will  know  why. 
It  will  be  ungracious  —  cruel." 

"Don't  say  that,"  Mary  implored,  much  dis- 
tressed. "I  wouldn't  hurt  his  feelings  for  the 
world.  It's  true  I  can't  bear  to  look  at  him,  though 
he  hasn't  a  bad  face.  But  it  isn't  only  that.  I 
could  try  to  get  over  it.  The  other  reason  is,  I 
never  met  him  or  Mr.  Carleton  before,  and  —  and 
I  don't  know  anything  about  society,  or  what  is 
done;  but  I  have  a  sort  of  feeling ' 

"Mais  mon  Dieu!"  murmured  Madame  d'Ambre. 
"Quelle  petite  sotte!  No  matter.  It  is  a  pretty 
pose,  and  suits  you  well.  I  am  the  last  to  find 
fault  with  it.  Yet  listen.  These  gentlemen  are 
distinguished.  Captain  Hannaford  is  an  English 
officer  who  has  been  of  a  courage  incredible.  He 
can  wear  many  medals  if  he  chooses.  Now  he  is 
very  sad,  despite  his  luck  in  the  Casino.  He  needs 
cheering.  And  this  young  Monsieur  Carleton,  the 
American,  I  have  read  of  him  in  the  papers.  He 
is  widely  known  as  a  man  who  flies,  and  these  air- 
men are  of  a  nobility  of  character !  I  am  your  chap- 
eron. What  more  do  you  ask?  I  am  the  widow  of 


144     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

a  naval  officer.  Do  you  not  owe  me  something  for 
the  good  turn  I  have  done  you  to-night?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  owe  you  a  great  deal,"  Mary  ad- 
mitted. 

It  was  quite  certain  that  what  Madame  d'Ambre 
considered  as  owing  to  her  would  be  paid. 

Prince  Vanno  saw  the  four  leaving  the  Casino  to- 
gether, Mary  and  Carleton  walking  behind  the 
other  two.  He  had  met  both  the  Englishman  and 
the  American  in  Egypt  once  or  twice,  and  had  not 
thought  of  them  since.  Now  he  would  forget  neither. 
The  story  about  Hannaford  and  his  retirement  from 
the  army,  Vanno  knew.  He  had  heard  nothing  of 
Carleton  except  what  was  to  his  credit,  but  some- 
how this  fact  made  it  no  less  unpleasant  for  Vanno 
that  the  aeronaut  should  be  talking  with  Mary. 
He  did  not  believe  they  had  met  before  to-night. 

The  Galerie  Charles  Trois  was  brilliantly  lighted, 
and  supper  was  beginning  behind  immense  glass 
windows  at  Giro's  and  the  glittering  white  and  gold 
restaurant  of  the  Metropole.  At  Giro's  there  had 
been  a  dinner  in  honour  of  two  celebrated  airmen, 
and  the  decorations  remained.  There  were  sus- 
pended monoplanes  and  biplanes  made  of  flowers, 
and  when  the  great  Giro  himself  saw  Carleton,  he 
came  forward,  inviting  the  young  man  to  take  a 
window-table. 

Carleton  explained  that  he  was  only  a  guest; 
but  this  made  no  difference.  Except  the  King  of 
Sweden's  table,  and  that  of  the  Grand  Duke  Cyril, 
Mr.  Carleton  and  his  friends  must  have  the  best. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     145 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Hannaford,  as  they  sat 
<lown,  letting  his  eyes  dwell  on  Madame  d'Ambre's 
costume,  "it's  lucky  for  us  that  we  are  with  a 
celebrity,  or  the  fatted  calf  would  not  have  been 
prepared  for  us.  No  use  disguising  the  truth:  you 
and  I  are  a  little  the  worse  for  wear.  Only  with 
you,  the  damage  is  temporary.  Put  you  into  a  new 
frock  and  hat,  and  you'll  revive  like  a  flower  in  fresh 
water.  Nothing  can  revive  me.  You  see,  I  look 
facts  in  the  face." 

"Could  one  not  make  facts  pleasant  to  see,  if  one 
must  look  them  in  the  face?"  Mary  ventured, 
gently. 

"  I'm  sure  you  will  make  them  so  for  Madame," 
said  Hannaford. 

"It  is  only  those  who  are  very  happy,  or  very 
miserable,  who  can  joke  forever,  as  you  do,"  said 
Madame  d'Ambre.  "I  can  understand  you  now, 
or  I  could,  at  my  worst.  But  for  the  moment  I 
have  new  life.  I  try  to  forget  the  future." 

As  they  ate  a  delicious  and  well-chosen  supper 
she  revived,  delicately,  and  regarded  her  misfor- 
tunes from  a  distance.  "To  think,  if  I  had  not  met 
you  all,  and  if  I  had  kept  my  resolve,"  she  said,  "by 
now  I  should  have  found  out  the  great  secret." 

As  she  spoke,  a  tall,  thin  man  came  to  the  table, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  Dick  Carleton's  shoulder. 
So  doing,  he  stood  looking  straight  into  Madame 
d'Ambre's  face.  She  started  a  little,  and  blushed 
deeply.  Blushes  were  a  great  stock-in-trade  with 
Madame  d'Ambre.  They  proved  that,  unlike  Clo- 


146     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

tilde  et  Cie.,  she  did  not  paint  her  face:  that  she 
was  altogether  a  different  order  of  being.  But  this 
blush  was  less  successful  than  usual.  It  was  a 
flush  of  annoyance,  and  showed  that  she  was 
vexed. 

The  man  was  more  American  in  type  than  Car- 
leton,  though  indefinably  so.  If  a  critic  had  been 
asked  how  he  would  know  this  person  to  be  a  New 
Yorker,  even  if  met  wrapped  in  bearskins  at  the 
North  Pole,  he  might  have  been  at  a  loss  to  ex- 
plain. Nevertheless,  the  dark  face  with  its  twin- 
kling, heavily  black-lashed  blue  eyes,  its  short,  wavy 
black  hair  turning  gray  at  the  temples,  its  prominent 
nose  and  chin,  lips  and  jaws  slightly  aggressive  in 
their  firmness,  was  the  distilled  essence  of  New 
York.  So  were  the  strong,  lean  figure,  and  the  ner- 
vous, virile  hands. 

"Hello,  Jim!"  exclaimed  Carleton,  turning 
quickly  at  the  touch  on  his  shoulder.  "I've  only 
played  with  a  dish  or  two.  I  was  waiting  for  you, 
really."  He  got  up,  and  rather  shyly  introduced 
the  party  to  his  host  of  the  celebrated  Stellamare, 

"I  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  lady  slightly , 
already,"  said  Schuyler,  still  fixing  Madeleine  with 
his  straight,  disconcerting  gaze. 

"Madame  d'Ambre?" 

"I  don't  think  we  knew  each  other's  name.     I 
had  the  honour  of  doing  a  small  —  a  very  small  - 
service  for  Madame,  such  a  service  as  any  man  may 
be  allowed  to  do  for  a  lady  at  Monte  Carlo." 

If  he  laid  an  emphasis  on  the  last  two  words,  it 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     147 

was  hardly  strong  enough  to  be  noticed,  unless  by 
the  person  most  concerned. 

"Do-  sit  down  with  us,  and  eat  the  Welsh  rabbit 
Carleton  has  been  talking  about,"  said  Hannaford. 
"This  is  my  show.  I  shall  be  delighted,  and  I'm 
sure  I  speak  for  the  ladies." 

Madame  d'Ambre  murmured  something,  and 
Mary  smiled  a  more  than  ordinarily  friendly  smile; 
for  she  knew  that  this  was  the  distant  cousin  of 
whom  she  had  heard  from  Peter,  the  "Jim"  who,  in 
Molly  Maxwell's  eyes,  was  an  heroic  figure.  Peter 
never  tired  of  telling  anecdotes  of  Jim's  wonderful 
feats  of  finance,  his  coolness  and  daring  in  times 
of  black  panic  or  perilous  uncertainty  in  Wall  Street, 
his  scholarly  attainments,  of  which  he  never  spoke; 
his  passion  for  music  and  gardens,  and  other  con- 
tradictory traits  such  as  no  one  would  have  ex- 
pected in  a  keen  business  man.  Sometimes  Mary 
had  fancied  that  Peter  was  a  little  inclined  to  fall 
in  love  with  Jim  Schuyler,  perhaps  because  he  was 
one  of  the  few  men  she  knew  who  did  not  grovel  at 
her  feet.  Now  Mary  looked  at  the  man  with  in- 
tense interest,  and  could  imagine  a  girl  like  Molly 
Maxwell  making  him  her  hero,  in  spite  of  the  dif- 
ference between  their  ages.  Molly  was  not  twenty- 
one.  He  must  be  thirty-eight  or  forty,  and  would 
have  looked  hard  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  blue 
eyes  which  might  soften  dangerously  under  certain 
influences. 

Mary's  first  impulse  on  hearing  his  name  was  to 
cry  out,  "Why,  your  cousin  Molly  Maxwell  is  my 


148     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

best  friend!"  But  something  imperatively  stopped 
her.  Deep  down  under  the  excitement  and  pleasure 
of  this  adventure  into  which  fate  had  plunged  her, 
murmured  a  little  voice,  saying,  "You  ought  not 
to  have  come  to  this  place  alone,  when  they  all 
trusted  you  to  go  straight  to  Florence."  And  if  she 
were  doing  wrong  and  meant  to  keep  on  doing  wrong, 
she  must  not  associate  herself  with  Saint  Ursula- 
of-the-Lake,  in  the  minds  of  people  here.  It  would 
not  be  fair  to  the  convent  and  Reverend  Mother, 
not  even  fair  to  Aunt  Sara  and  Elinor,  who  believed 
her  to  be  journeying  obediently  toward  Florence. 
Thinking  thus,  she  determined  to  say  nothing  of  her 
own  life  to  those  she  might  meet  at  Monte  Carlo. 
Soon  she  would  go  away,  and  no  real  harm  would 
have  been  done  to  any  one.  As  for  this  supper,  if 
she  had  lingering  doubts  that  it  was  not  quite  "the 
thing"  to  have  accepted,  the  name  of  Jim  Schuyler 
chased  them  away  like  clouds  before  the  sun.  It 
was  like  being  with  an  old  friend  to  have  Peter's 
cousin  there;  and  Dick  Carleton  was  staying  with 
him.  Mr.  Carleton  and  Captain  Hannaford  were 
friends,  and  Mr.  Schuyler  evidently  knew  Madame 
d'Ambre,  so  everything  had  turned  out  delightfully. 
Also  it  was  exciting  to  see  how  people  who 
came  in  looked  at  her  and  whispered.  She  could 
not  help  knowing  that  they  said,  "There's  the  girl 
who  won  so  much  in  the  Casino  that  everybody 
rushed  to  her  table  and  applauded." 

It  was  wonderful,  intoxicating,  to  be  the  heroine 
of  such  a  place,  to  have  experienced  players  envy 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     149 

her.  She  longed  for  to-morrow  morning,  so  that  she 
might  go  back  to  the  same  table  at  the  Casino,  and 
play  on  zero  and  twenty-four  again.  "I  think  I 
shall  always  make  that  my  game,  and  go  to  the  same 
table,"  she  said  to  herself,  with  the  unconscious 
egotism  and  vanity  of  a  child. 

"What  was  that  I  caught  as  I  arrived,  about 
'finding  out  the  great  secret?'"  Schuyler  asked, 
when  he  sat  down  at  a  place  made  for  him  on 
Madame  d'Ambre's  right  hand.  Again  he  fixed 
his  eyes  on  her,  this  time  with  polite  interest. 
"  I  thought  the  words  sounded  familiar.  I  remember 
your  saying  something  of  the  sort,  I'm  sure,  the  even- 
ing of  our  first  meeting." 

"I  do  not  recall  it,  Monsieur,"  replied  Madeleine. 

"It  was  on  the  Casino  terrace,"  he  went  on,  re- 
flectively. "I  was  walking  there  between  the  first 
and  second  acts  of  an  opera,  about  a  fortnight  ago. 
We  met,  and  you  seemed  depressed,  Madame.  It 
was  then  I  was  able  to  do  you  that  small  service." 

"I  did  not  think  of  it  as  a  service,"  she  said, 
bitterly. 

"Ah,  now  the  occasion  has  come  back  to  you. 
What,  not  a  service  when  a  lady  has  a  little  bottle 
of  poison  stuck  into  her  belt,  and  a  man  drinks  it 
himself  rather  than  she  should  keep  her  threat  and 
swallow  it!" 

"It  was  not  a  threat.  I  would  have  drunk  the 
poison  and  ended  everything,"  she  insisted. 

"If  I  hadn't  beenjso  selfish  and  greedy  as  to  take 
it  out  of  your  hand  and  sample  it.  Strange  it  did 


150     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

me  no  harm.  I  had  a  presentiment  it  wouldn't, 
somehow.  But  of  course  my  system  may  be  poison- 
proof.  By  the  way,  isn't  that  the  same  pretty  little 
bottle  I  see  now,  tucked  into  your  belt!  And  were 
you  thinking  of  trying  its  effect  again  to-night,  if 
these  friends  hadn't  come  in  time  to  cheer  you  up, 
and  so  put  off  the  evil  day?" 

"You  are  very  cruel  to  make  sport  of  my  tragedy, 
Monsieur!"  Madame  d'Ambre  exclaimed,  her  soft 
wistfulness  flashing  into  anger.  "These  sympa- 
thetic ones  have  saved  me  from  myself  by  their 
generosity.  They  have  made  me  happy.  Why  do 
you  go  out  of  your  way  to  remind  me  of  misery?" 

Schuyler's  blue  eyes  twinkled  cynically,  yet  not 
unkindly.  "I  quite  understand  that  you  can  be 
saved  from  yourself  only  by  sufficient  generosity, 
Madame,"  he  said.  "The  question  is,  what  is 
sufficient?  Too  much  sometimes  goes  to  the  head. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  upset  your  cup  of  happiness. 
But  drink  wisely,  Madame,  in  little  sips,  not  in 
great  gulps.  It's  better  for  the  health  —  of  all 
concerned.  And  the  contents  of  your  bottle 
will  no  doubt  be  just  as  efficacious  another  time." 

"I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  flung  at  him,  vi- 
perishly.  "You  have  heard  of  Mademoiselle's  luck 
to-night.  You  think  I  mean  to  take  advantage  of 
her.  I  would  not  — 

"Of  course  not,  Madame.  You,  the  widow  of  a 
naval  officer!  Have  I  accused  you  of  anything?" 
Schuyler  cut  her  short,  with  sudden  gayety  of  man- 
ner. "I've  heard  of  Mademoiselle's  luck.  She  was 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      151 

pointed  out  to  me  by  a  man  I  know,  as  I  came  in, 
just  before  joining  you.  But  as  I'm  aware  that 
you're  a  good  business  woman,  my  idea  is  that  the 
advantage  you'll  take  won't  amount  to  more  than 
5  per  cent.  More  would  be  usury,  and  give  Mad- 
emoiselle an  unfavourable  idea  of  Monte  Carlo 
manners." 

He  spoke  with  deliberation,  allotting  each  word 
its  full  value;  and  before  Madame  d'Ambre  could 
leash  her  rage,  he  turned  to  Mary.  "Talking  of 
Monte  Carlo  manners,"  he  took  up  the  theme 
again,  "you  mustn't  judge  hastily.  There  isn't 
one  Monte  Carlo.  There  are  many.  I  don't 
suppose  you  ever  saw  a  cocktail  of  any  sort, 
much  less  one  called  the  'rainbow?'  It:s  in 
several  different  coloured  layers  of  liquid,  each 
distinct  from  the  other,  as  far  as  taste  and  appear- 
ance are  concerned,  though  they  blend  together  as 
you  drink.  It  wouldn't  do  to  sip  the  top  layer,  and 
say  what  the  decoction  was  ilike,  before  you 
absorbed  the  whole  —  with  discrimination. 
Well,  that  cocktail's  something  like  Monte  Carlo. 
Only  you  begin  the  cocktail  at  the  top.  In  the  Monte 
Carlo  rainbow  you  sometimes  begin  at  the  bottom." 

He  looked  steadily  at  Mary  as  he  finished  his 
simile.  Then  he  lifted  the  silver  cover  of  a 
dish  which  had  just  arrived,  and  gave  his  whole 
attention  to  a  noble  Welsh  rabbit,  an  odd  dainty 
for  a  Riviera  supper  —  but  Giro  prided  himself  on 
gratifying  any  whim  of  any  customer,  at  five  min- 
utes' notice. 


152     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Captain  Hannaford  had  listened  in  silence,  with 
a  light  of  malicious  amusement  in  his  eyes,  which 
travelled  from  Madeleine  to  Mary,  from  Mary  to 
Madeleine,  and  occasionally  to  Dick  Carleton. 

Mary,  despite  her  blank  ignorance  of  the  world 
and  its  ways,  was  far  from  stupid  or  slow  of  under- 
standing. She  realized  that  Schuyler's  harangue  to 
Madame  d'Ambre  was  all,  or  almost  all,  for  her:  and 
she  caught  his  meaning  in  the  last  sentence  of  the 
rainbow  allegory.  He  wanted  her  to  know  that  she 
had  "begun  at  the  bottom,"  and  must  beware.  She 
was  half  vexed,  half  grateful;  vexed  for  Madeleine, 
and  grateful  for  herself,  because,  being  Peter's 
hero,  he  must  be  a  good  man,  who  would  not  be 
cruel  to  a  woman  for  sheer  love  of  cruelty.  But 
her  shamed  pity  for  Madeleine  was  stronger  than 
her  gratitude;  and  instead  of  giving  less  out  of  her 
winnings  than  she  had  planned  to  give,  she  im- 
pulsively decided  to  give  more;  this,  not  because 
she  believed  in  or  liked  Madeleine  d'Ambre,  but  be- 
cause she  winced  under  a  sister  woman's  humilia- 
tion. The  ugly  flash  in  the  eyes  that  had  been  wist- 
ful, shocked  her.  She  saw  that  they  were  cat- 
coloured  eyes,  and  Jim  Schuyler  scored  as  he  meant 
to  score,  in  her  resolve  to  pay  Madame  d'Ambre 
well,  then  gently  to  slip  out  of  her  friendship. 

"When  we  finish  supper,  she  can  go  with  me  to 
my  hotel,  and  we'll  divide  the  money  into  three 
parts,"  Mary  said  to  herself.  "I'll  give  her  two, 
and  keep  one.  Even  one  will  be  like  a  little  fortune; 
and  whatever  happens  I'll  keep  enough Jx>  get  away 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      153 

with;  but  I  must  play  again  to-morrow.  It's  too 
wonderful  to  stop  yet." 

But  she  was  reckoning  without  Jim  Schuyler. 

When  he  saw  the  eyes  of  Madeleine  hint  that 
it  was  time  to  go,  he  said  quickly,  "Well,  Mad- 
emoiselle, have  you  counted  your  winnings,  and  do 
you  know  exactly  what  they  amount  to?" 

"No,"  said  Mary,  "not  yet.  I  thought  Madame 
d'Ambre  and  I  might  do  that  afterward." 

"Can't  we  save  you  the  trouble?"  he  asked. 
"Why  not  spread  your  store  here  on  the  table,  and 
let  us  all  work  out  the  calculation?  Everybody 
knows  you  broke  the  bank,  so  there's -no  imprudence 
or  ostentation  in  displaying  your  wealth." 

Without  a  word,  Mary  accepted  the  suggestion, 
since  not  to  do  so  would  have  seemed  ungrateful. 

"She's  given  away  a  lot  already,"  said  Carleton. 
"I  saw  her  distributing  mille  notes  to  lovely  but 
unfortunate  gamblers,  as  if  she  were  dealing  out 
biscuits." 

"Oh,  I  gave  away  only  four,"  Mary  excused  her- 
self. "They  were  nothing." 

Everybody  laughed  except  Madeleine. 

The  fat  stacks  of  French  banknotes  were  ex- 
tracted with  some  effort  from  the  hand-bag  into 
which  they  had  been  stuffed.  Captain  Hannaford 
and  Schuyler  counted  while  the  others  watched, 
Carleton  with  amused  interest,  Mary  with  com- 
parative indifference,  because  the  actual  money 
meant  less  to  her  than  the  thrill  of  winning  it, 
and  Madame  d'Ambre  on  the  jverge  of  tears.  She 


154     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

considered  that  she  was  being  robbed  of  her  rights, 
for  she  knew  that  this  merciless  man  with  the  hard 
jaw  and  pleasant  blue  eyes  intended  to  keep  her 
hands  off  the  money. 

"One    hundred    and    nine    thousand    francs!" 
Schuyler  announced  at  last.     "I  congratulate  you, 
Mademoiselle.     And   I   wish   you'd   let   me   advise 
you." 

"If  I  did,  what  would  you  say?"  Mary  smiled. 

"I  should  say:     'Go  home  to-morrow." 

"But  I've  just  come  away  from  home.  I  don't 
want  to  go  back" 

"Well,  then,  go  to  some  other  place,  a  place  with- 
out a  Casino." 

"I  suppose  that's  good  advice,"  said  Mary. 
"But  —  I  can't  take  it  yet." 

"I'm  sorry,"  returned  Peter's  cousin. 

The  whole  conversation  had  been  in  French  from 
the  first,  as  Madame  d'Ambre  knew  little  English; 
and  Mary's  accent  was  so  perfect  that  to  an  Amer- 
ican or  English  ear  it  passed  as  Parisian.  Neither 
Hannaford,  Schuyler,  nor  Carleton  supposed  that 
she  had  just  arrived  from  England,  though  her 
name  —  if  they  had  caught  it  correctly  —  was 
English  or  Scotch.  "Mademoiselle"  they  called 
her,  and  wondering  who  and  what  she  was,  vaguely 
associated  her  with  France,  probably  Paris. 

"How  long  shall  you  stay?"  asked  Carleton,  in 
the  pause  that  followed. 

"I  don't  know,"  Mary  said.  "A  few  days,  per- 
haps." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     155 

"Will  you  come  down  to  the  Condamine  and  see 
my  hydro-aeroplane  to-morrow?  I'm  keeping  her 
there,  and  practising  a  bit  in  the  harbour,  before 
taking  her  to  Nice." 

"Oh,  I  should  love  to!  I've  never  seen  any  sort 
of  aeroplane,  not  even  a  picture  of  one." 

"That's  clever  and  original  of  you,  anyhow. 
Where  have  you  been,  to  avoid  them?  What  time 
to-morrow?  Is  ten  o'clock  too  early?" 

Mary  blushed.  "Would  afternoon  suit  you?  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  have  luck  again,  if  I  played  in 
the  morning." 

"Afternoon,  of  course,"  Carleton  assented  po- 
litely, though  he  was  disappointed;  for  in  giving  the 
invitation  he  had  been  following  his  friend's  lead  in 
trying  to  save  the  moth  from  the  candle.  "Shall 
we  say  three  o'clock?  I'll  call  for  you." 

"We'll  both  call,  with  my  car,"  said  Schuyler. 
"But  what  about  that  5  per  cent,  which  I  suppose 
you  want  to  give  your  roulettle  teacher?"  he  went 
on,  with  apparent  carelessness. 

"I  want  to  give  her  more,"  Mary  confessed, 
with  that  soft  obstinacy  which  people  found  dif- 
ficult to  combat. 

But  Schuyler  had  weapons  for  padded  barricades. 
He  turned  to  Madeleine.  "I'm  certain  that  Ma- 
dame will  refuse  to  accept  more,"  he  said. 

She  faced  him  defiantly.  Then  her  eyes  fell. 
She  dared  not  make  him  an  active  enemy.  Though 
he  never  gambled,  he  was  a  man  of  influence  at 
the  Casino,  for  he  was  a  friend  of  those  highest  in 


156     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

authority,  and  had  power  "on  the  Rock,"  also, 
for  the  Prince  and  he  were  on  visiting  terms.  Mad- 
eleine d'Ambre  had  learned  these  details  since  the 
evening  on  the  terrace  when  he  had  tested  her 
"poison." 

"Yes,  I  —  should  refuse  to  accept,"  she  echoed, 
morosely. 

"Virtue  is  its  own  reward;  and  there  may  be 
others,"  Schuyler  said  as  he  deducted  a  sum 
equal  to  5  per  cent,  from  Mary's  winnings  and 
pushed  it  across  the  table. 

But  even  this  was  not  the  end  of  his  interference. 
When  Madeleine  rose  and  Mary  sprang  up  obedi- 
ently, he  proposed  that  they,  the  three  men,  should 
see  the  ladies  home.  This  plan  was  carried  out; 
and  when  Mary  had  been  left  at  the  door  of  the 
Hotel  de  Paris,  they  insisted  on  taking  Madame 
d'Ambre  at  once  down  the  hill  to  her  lodgings 
in  the  Condamine.  The  penance  was  made  only 
a  little  lighter  to  the  victim  by  a  lift  in  Schuyler's 
automobile.  She  was  far  from  grateful  to  its 
owner,  and  made  no  answer  except  a  twist  of  the 
shoulders  to  his  last  words:  "Remember  not  to 
change  your  mind.  It  isn't  safe  in  this  climate." 

When  they  had  dropped  Hannaford  at  his  hotel, 
also  in  the  Condamine,  Carleton  lost  no  time  in 
satisfying  his  curiosity.  "I  never  saw  you  take  so 
much  trouble,  Jim,  over  a  woman.  Is  it  a  case  of 
love  at  first  sight,  old  man?" 

"Bosh!"  said  Schuyler.  "Don't  you  know  me 
better?  That  girl  puzzles  me.  There's  something 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     157 

very  odd  about  her.  I'm  conceited  enough  to  think 
I  can  generally  size  people  up  pretty  well  at  first 
sight,  but  she  beats  me.  I  can't  make  her  out. 
And  besides " 

"Besides  — what?" 

"I  know  I  never  saw  her  before,  yet  her  face 
seems  familiar.  I  associate  her  with  —  it's  idiotic 
-  but  with  the  person  I  care  for  most  in  the  world. 
Heaven  knows  why.  I  don't." 

"Do  I  know  who  that  person  is?"  Carleton 
ventured,  unable  to  resist  the  temptation. 

"No,  you  don't  know,"  the  older  man  returned, 
rather  gruffly.  "And  I'm  pretty  sure  you  never  will, 
because  the  less  I  talk  or  think  about  that  person 
the  better  for  me.  That  part  of  the  story  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  case.  There's  only  this  queer 
impression  of  mine.  And  I  had  a  weird  feeling 
as  if  it  were  my  bounden  duty  to  see  that  this 
little  girl  wasn't  victimized  by  an  unscrupulous 
woman.  So  I  did  what  I  could." 

"I  should  think  you  did!"  exclaimed  the  other. 
"I  couldn't  have  done  as  much.  Poor  Madame 
d'Ambre." 

"Her  real  name's  probably  the  French  for  Smith, 
without  a  *de'  in  it,  unless  it's  to  spell  devil.  If 
she's  a  widow,  she's  a  grassy  one.  Her  game  is  to 
be  found  crying  on  the  Casino  terrace  by  moonlight, 
preparatory  to  drinking  poison,  because  she's  tired 
of  life  and  its  temptations.  If  it's  a  young  lieu- 
tenant just  off  his  ship  for  a  flutter  at  Monte,  or 
some  other  lamb  of  that  fleeciness,  he's  soon  shorn. 


158     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

There's  quite  a  good  living  in  it,  I  understand. 
She  always  contrives  to  make  the  youngsters  believe 
her  an  innocent  angel,  whom  they  must  try  to 
save." 

"But  you  seem  to  have  been  on  in  that  act. 
Was  it  a  moonlight  scene?" 

"Plenty  of  moonshine  —  and  clear  enough  for 
me  to  see  through  the  angelhood  to  the  designing 
minxhood.  The  poison  was  water,  coloured,  I  should 
think,  with  cochineal,  and  pleasantly  flavoured  with 
a  little  bitter  almond.  But  —  well,  one  sees  through 
people  sometimes,  as  if  they  were  jelly-fish,  and  yet 
is  a  little  sorry  for  them  just  because  they  are  jelly- 
fish, stranded  on  the  beach." 

"I  see,"  said  Carleton. 

They  were  spinning  along  the  white  way  that 
winds  between  mountain  and  sea,  out  of  the  prin- 
cipality, and  so  toward  Cap  Martin,  Mentone,  and 
on  to  Italy.  The  tramcars  had  ceased  to  run; 
the  endless  daytime  procession  of  motor-cars  and 
carriages  was  broken  by  the  hours  of  sleep,  and 
the  glimmering  road  was  empty  save  for  immense, 
white-covered  carts  which  had  come  from  distant 
Lombardy,  and  over  Alpine  passes,  bringing  eggs  and 
vegetables  for  the  guests  of  Hercules.  Slowly,  yet 
steadily,  shambled  the  tired  mules,  and  would 
shamble  on  till  dawn.  There  were  often  no  lights 
on  the  carts,  which  moved  silently,  like  mammoth 
ghosts,  great  lumbering  vehicle  after  vehicle,  each 
drawn  by  three  or  four  mules  or  horses.  As  the 
lamps  of  Schuyler's  powerful  car  flashed  on  them 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     159 

round  sharp  rock-corners,  tearing  the  veil  of 
shadow,  they  loomed  up  unexpectedly  in  the  night, 
like  some  mystery  suddenly  revealed  in  a  place  of 
peace. 

Schuyler  liked  motoring  at  night  on  the  Riviera; 
for  he  never  tired  of  the  dark  forms  of  mountains, 
cut  out  black  in  the  creamy  foam  of  star-spattered 
clouds,  or  the  salt  smell  of  the  sea  and  its  murmur, 
singing  the  same  song  Greeks  and  Romans  had  heard 
on  these  shores.  He  never  tired  of  meeting  the 
huge  carts  from  Italy,  travelling  slowly  through  the 
dark.  He  always  had  the  same  keen,  foolish  wish 
to  know  whence  they  came,  and  what  were  the 
thoughts  behind  the  bright  eyes  which  waked  from 
sleep  and  stared  for  an  instant,  as  his  lamps  pried 
under  the  great  quaking  canopies:  and  more  than 
all  he  enjoyed  arriving  at  his  own  gate,  seeing  the 
pale  shimmer  of  his  marble  statues  against  back- 
grounds of  ivy  and  ilex,  and  drawing  in  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  orange  blossoms  and  roses.  Because  he 
never  tired  of  these  things  the  two  months  at  Stel- 
lamare,  often  spent  alone  except  for  servants,  were 
the  best  months  of  his  year.  Through  stress  and 
strain  he  thought  of  them,  as  a  thirsty  man  thinks 
of  a  long  draught  of  cool  water;  and  he  spent  them 
quietly,  living  in  each  moment:  not  complicating 
his  leisure  with  many  acquaintances  or  amusements, 
and  neither  vexed  nor  pleased  because  people  called 
him  selfish,  and  gossipped  about  his  palace  in  a 
garden  as  a  place  mysterious  and  secret.  He  was 
not  quite  in  Paradise  in  his  retreat  there,  because  he 


160     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

was  not  a  perfectly  happy  man;  but  he  did  not 
expect  perfect  happiness,  and  hoped  for  nothing 
better  on  earth  than  his  lonely  holidays  at  Stella- 
mare. 

Descending  a  steep  hill  toward  the  sea  as  the 
big  car  slipped  between  tall  marble  gate-posts,  a 
perfume  as  of  all  the  sweetest  flowers  of  the  world, 
gathered  in  a  bouquet,  was  flung  into  the  two  men's 
faces.  In  the  distance,  beyond  the  house  whose 
windows  suddenly  lit  up  as  if  by  magic,  a  wide  semi- 
circle of  marble  columns  glimmered  pale  against  the 
sea's  deep  indigo.  And  away  across  the  stretch  of 
quiet  water  glittered  the  amazing  jewels  of  Monte 
Carlo. 

"By  Jove!  no  Roman  emperor  could  have  had  a 
lovelier  garden,  or  a  more  splendid  palace  on  this 
coast,"  said  Carleton,  as  he  stood  on  the  steps  of  the 
house  modelled  after  the  description  of  Pliny's 
villa  at  Laurentum.  "Your  greatest  wish  must  be 
fulfilled." 

"My  greatest  wish,"  Schuyler  echoed,  with  a 
faint  sigh.  And  in  the  starlight  his  face  lost  its 
hard  lines.  But  Carleton  did  not  see. 

The  door  was  thrown  open  by  an  old  Italian 
servant,  who  had  the  profile  of  a  captive  Saracen 
king. 

They  went  in  together,  and  left  the  night  full  of 
perfume,  and  the  song  of  little  waves  fringed  with 
starlight,  that  broke  on  the  rocks  like  fairy-gold  - 
the  vanishing  fairy-gold  of  the  Casino  across  the 
water. 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      161 

And  at  the  same  moment  (for  it  was  very  late) 
the  dazzling  illumination  of  the  Casino  terrace 
was  dimmed,  as  if  half  the  diamonds  had  been 
shut  up  in  velvet  cases. 

A  great  peace  fell  upon  the  night,  as  though  the 
throbbing  of  a  passionate  heart  had  ceased. 


X 

VANNO  DELLA  ROBBIA  wished  to  think  no 
more  of  the  false  stars  that  he  had  followed;  for 
there  was  every  reason  now  to  believe  them  false 
stars.  Yet  something  deep  down  in  him  refused 
to  believe  this;  and  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
them  as  before.  But  he  would  not  give  way  to 
what  seemed  like  weakness,  and  so  he  fought  against 
the  memory. 

If  he  had  come  to  Monte  Carlo  only  for  the  sake 
of  the  girl,  he  would  have  left  again  next  morn- 
ing. Having  come  for  other  things,  however,  it 
would  have  been  weaker  to  go  than  stay.  His 
brother  and  sister-in-law  had  not  arrived  yet  at 
their  villa  at  Cap  Martin,  and  were  not  due  for 
some  days,  as  Angelo  had  taken  his  bride  to 
Ireland,  to  show  her  to  a  much  loved  cousin,  the 
Duchess  of  Clare.  Also  there  was  the  week  of 
aviation,  to  which  Vanno  had  been  looking  forward 
with  interest  during  the  voyage  from  Alexan- 
dria to  Marseilles.  A  parachute  which  he  had  in- 
vented was  to  be  used  for  the  first  time. 

Though  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  eyes 
which  haunted  him  with  their  lure  of  purity  and 
innocence,  he  would  not  concern  himself  further 
with  the  comings  and  goings  of  Miss  M.  Grant  of 

162 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     163 

London.  He  went  instead  about  his  own  affairs. 
He  slept  badly;  but  Vanno  was  accustomed  to 
taking  little  sleep,  therefore  it  did  not  occur  to  him 
to  be  tired  because  he  woke  finally  at  seven,  after 
having  lain  awake  till  the  ringing  of  Ste.  Devote's 
five  o'clock  bells,  down  in  the  ravine.  Instead,  he 
felt  a  kind  of  burning  energy  which  forced  him  to 
activity  of  some  sort.  After  his  cold  bath  he 
dressed  quickly,  and  went  out  to  walk,  wishing 
himself  back  in  the  Libyan  desert,  where  he  had  not 
seen  or  thought  of  any  woman. 

It  was  only  half-past  seven,  and  the  sun  was  still 
low  in  the  east,  just  rising  above  the  mountains  of 
Italy.  It  shone  through  a  slit  in  two  long  purple 
clouds,  and  its  shining  lit  the  sea.  Vanno  ran 
down  the  steps  to  the  Casino  terrace,  coming  upon 
it  near  the  clump  of  nymphlike  palms,  and  the 
marble  bust  of  Berlioz  that  Mary  could  see  from 
her  window.  Hercules'  Rock  was  on  fire  with 
sunrise,  and  the  Prince's  palace  looked  in  the 
magic  flame  like  a  strange  Valhalla. 

Not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen,  not  even  a  gardener 
employed  by  the  Casino,  and  all  the  watching  eyes 
of  the  horned  animal  were  asleep.  Vanno  stared 
at  the  great  cream-white  building  with  a  brooding 
resentment,  because  of  the  influence  which  he  be- 
lieved it  to  exert  over  his  clouded  star.  He  fancied 
that  she  had  been  drawn  here  by  its  extraordinary 
magnetism  which  pulsed  like  electricity  across 
Europe;  and  that,  if  she  had  not  already  been  swept 
off  her  feet,  soon  she  would  be,  and  her  soul  drowned. 


164     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

To  his  own  surprise,  he  could  himself  feel  the 
mysterious  power  of  the  place.  As  he  looked  at  the 
long  windows  framed  in  rose-red  marble  he  remem- 
bered what  his  Arab  friend,  the  astrologer  in  the 
desert,  had  said  to  him  about  this  month  of  De- 
cember. 

"Could  it  be  possible,  if  there  were  anything  in 
the  science  of  astrology,"  Vanno  asked  himself, 
"that  the  stars  could  rule  the  chances  in  a  game  of 
chance?"  Vaguely  he  thought,  with  the  mystic 
side  of  his  nature,  that  to  study,  and  prove  or  dis- 
prove this  idea,  might  be  interesting.  But  the 
side  that  was  stern  and  ascetic  thrust  away  the 
suggestion.  He  remembered  the  thousands  of  peo- 
ple who  drifted  here  from  all  over  the  world,  hoping 
for  one  reason  or  other  to  get  the  gold  guarded  by 
this  big  white  dragon.  Some  perhaps  believed 
in  their  stars;  others  had  studied  systems,  and 
tried  them  on  little  roulette  wheels  at  home;  but 
nearly  all  went  away  defeated.  The  form  of  the 
long,  high  mountain  called  the  Tete  de  Chien 
looked  to  Vanno  like  a  giant  man  lying  face  down 
in  despair,  the  shape  of  his  head,  his  back,  and 
supine  legs  tragic  in  desperate  abandon.  "That's 
a  symbol,"  Vanno  said,  half  aloud,  and  felt  no 
longer  the  strange  pulling  at  his  heartstrings  which 
for  a  moment  had  drawn  him,  too,  under  the  in- 
fluence. He  thought  of  himself  as  one  of  the  few, 
the  very  few,  people  within  a  wide  range  of  Monte 
Carlo  for  whom  the  Casino  meant  nothing.  For 
surely  there  were  few  indeed.  Even  the  peasants 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     165 

among  the  mountains  owed  their  living  indirectly 
to  the  Casino.  Because  of  its  existence  they  were 
able  to  command  large  prices  for  their  fruit  and 
flowers  and  vegetables,  or  anything  they  could 
produce  which  pleasure-lovers  drawn  by  the  Casino 
could  possibly  want.  Over  there  on  the  Rock, 
where  red  roofs  of  houses  crowded  closely  together, 
everybody  lived  in  one  way  or  other  by  the  Casino. 
No  one,  Vanno  had  been  told,  who  was  not  Mone- 
gasque  by  birth  or  nationalization  was  allowed  to 
live  on  the  Rock.  Probably  many  of  the  croupiers 
in  the  Casino  and  their  families  had  houses  there, 
and  perhaps  many  were  shopkeepers  down  in  the 
Condamine,  where  the  cheap  hotels  and  lodging- 
houses  were.  Few  of  those  hotels,  or  the  more 
luxurious  ones  at  Monte  Carlo  itself,  would  exist 
if  it  were  not  for  the  Casino,  and  the  whole  Riviera 
would  be  less  prosperous.  But  Vanno  was  persuaded 
that  he  cared  nothing  for  the  gold  of  the  dragon. 

Once  before,  when  he  was  almost  a  boy,  he  had 
come  here  with  his  brother  Angelo  for  a  few  days. 
They  had  gone  to  see  the  Prince,  whose  ancient 
family,  the  Grimaldis,  was  older  and  more  important 
even  than  the  house  of  Rienzi.  Vanno  had  promised 
Angelo  that  he  would  call  at  the  palace  this  time, 
and  he  decided  to  do  so  formally  in  the  afternoon; 
the  morning  he  resolved  to  spend  in  walking  up  to 
La  Turbie  and  down  again.  The  exercise  would 
clear  his  brain;  and  he  fancied  that  he  remembered 
the  way  well  enough  to  find  it  again  without  ask- 
ing directions. 


166     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

There  was  something  else  he  might  do  also,  if 
there  were  time.  A  priest  whom,  as  a  boy,  he  had 
known  well  at  Monte  Delia  Robbia  was  now  cure  at 
Roquebrune.  They  corresponded,  and  in  coming 
to  the  Riviera,  Vanno  had  planned  to  look  him  up. 
He  was  in  a  mood  to  want  a  full  day's  programme. 

In  a  few  moments'  walking  he  left  Monte  Carlo 
behind  and  came  out  upon  the  open  hillside,  where, 
above  him,  he  saw  the  path  leading  skyward  like 
an  interminable  staircase.  Often  as  he  mounted, 
bareheaded,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  he  caught  himself, 
mentally  trespassing  on  forbidden  ground,  thinking 
of  his  lost  Giulietta,  and  wondering  what  she  had 
been  doing,  every  day  and  hour  of  her  life  since 
she  was  a  child.  He  had  never  felt  this  pressing, 
insistent  curiosity  about  any  human  being  before. 
His  thoughts  followed  the  girl  everywhere,  wherever 
she  might  be;  and  something  —  the  same  Some- 
thing which  refused  to  disbelieve  in  her  —  seemed 
to  know  where  she  was  at  that  moment,  even  how 
she  looked,  and  what  was  in  her  soul,  though  his 
outer  intelligence  could  see  nothing.  That  rebel- 
lious Something  longed  to  turn  back  toward  Monte 
Carlo,  to  keep  near  her  and  guard  her.  It  cried 
out  strongly  to  do  this,  but  Vanno  would  not  listen. 
He  sang  to  himself  as  he  walked  up  the  mule  path 
among  olive  trees;  and  peasants  coming  down 
from  the  mountains,  their  nailed  boots  rattling  on 
the  cobblestones,  were  singing,  too,  strange  wordless 
songs  without  tune,  songs  neither  French  nor 
Italian,  but  with  a  wild  eastern  lilt  leaping  out  of 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     167 

their  monotony,  reminiscent  of  the  days  when 
Saracens  ruled  the  coast.  Some  faces,  too,  were 
like  the  faces  of  eastern  men,  high  featured,  with 
enormous,  flashing  eyes.  Here  and  there  was  one 
of  a  bold  yet  dreamy,  gray-eyed,  brown-haired  type 
Vanno  had  not  met  before  in  any  of  his  travels. 
He  remembered  that  this  country  had  belonged  to 
the  Ligurians  before  his  ancestors,  the  Romans,  took 
it  after  two  hundred  years'  hard  fighting:  and 
types  are  persistent.  He  had  heard  that  there 
were  ruined  Ligurian  forts  to  be  traced  still,  among 
the  higher  hills  and  mountains;  and  the  monument 
of  La  Turbie,  whither  he  was  bound,  was  Augustus 
Caesar's  emblem  of  triumph  over  the  Ligurian  tribes. 

The  funicular  was  not  running  at  this  hour,  and 
the  white  lacings  of  the  Upper  Corniche  were  empty 
save  for  a  cart  or  two,  bringing  down  loads  of  wall- 
flower-tinted stone  from  some  mountain  quarry, 
for  the  building  of  a  villa.  Vanno  had  easily  found 
his  way  on  to  a  mule  path,  rough  yet  well  kept,  and 
ancient  perhaps  as  the  hidden  Ligurian  forts. 
Round  him  was  the  gray-green  shimmer  of  olive 
trees,  and  their  old,  thick  roots  that  crawled  and 
climbed  the  rocks  were  like  knotted  snakes  asleep. 
Bands  of  pines  marched  and  mourned  along  the 
skyline,  and  in  the  midst  of  glittering  laurels  cy- 
press trees  stood  up  straight  and  black  as  burnt- 
out  torches. 

Clouds  that  had  darkened  the  east  when  Vanno 
started  veiled  the  sun  now,  like  lazy  eyelids.  The 
gay  glitter  was  gone  from  the  world,  and  the 


168     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

sea  was  of  a  dull  velvety  gray,  dappled  with  silver- 
gleams  that  sifted  through  holes  in  the  clouds, 
making  the  water  look  like  scales  on  a  fish's  back. 
Far  below  lay  the  strip  of  frivolous  fairyland,  all 
that  most  strangers  know  of  the  Riviera:  the  pleas- 
ure towns  with  their  palms  and  tropical  flowers,  the 
decorated  villas,  to  live  in  which  Vanno  thought 
would  be  like  living  in  hollowed-out  birthday  cakes. 
And  the  soft,  thoughtful  grayness  which  was  dim- 
ming the  sunshine  suited  this  different,  higher 
world  as  well  as  it  suited  his  mood.  The  loveliness 
of  trees,  and  the  pale  splendour  of  mountain  peaks 
carved  in  bas-relief  against  the  pearl-gray  sky, 
rang  out  to  his  soul  like  a  chime  of  bells  from  a 
cathedral  tower,  giving  him  back  the  mastery  of 
himself.  It  was  good  to  be  here,  where  there  were 
no  sounds  except  the  voice  of  Nature,  singing  her 
eternal  song,  in  the  universal  language,  and  where 
the  life  of  man  seemed  as  distant  as  the  far- 
down  windows  that  glittered  mysteriously  out  of 
shadows,  as  the  eyes  of  a  cat  glitter  at  night. 

Inarticulate,  enchanting  whispers  of  the  love  and 
joy  which  have  been  in  the  world  and  may  be  again 
floated  up  to  Vanno's  imagination  like  the  chanting 
of  mermaids  heard  under  the  sea.  He  felt  that,  if 
he  should  meet  his  Giulietta  now,  he  would  believe 
in  her,  and  his  belief  would  make  her  worthy  of 
itself,  if  she  were  not  already  worthy.  "May  the 
wings  of  our  souls  never  fail  us,"  he  said  aloud,  as 
if  it  were  a  prayer. 

Almost  before  the  time  when  Vanno  Delia  Robbia 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      169 

had  known  words  enough  to  clothe  his  most  childish 
thoughts,  he  had  possessed  an  unknown  land,  a 
kingdom  and  a  castle  of  his  own  more  beautiful 
than  sunset  clouds.  To  this  land  he  always  travelled 
when  he  was  alone,  and  often  at  night  in  dreams. 
It  had  been  around  him  in  the  desert  where  his 
errand  had  been  to  study  the  eastern  stars;  and 
the  observatory  at  Monte  Delia  Robbia,  built  with 
money  left  him  by  his  mother,  was  one  gateway 
to  that  land.  When  he  was  in  this  secret  king- 
dom he  was  brother  to  the  stars.  All  knowledge 
came  echoing  through  his  soul,  as  if  whispered  to 
him  by  past  selves,  other  incarnations  of  himself, 
who  had  gleaned  it  in  their  lives,  from  days  when  the 
world  was  young.  He  had  a  thousand  souls,  which 
had  known  great  sorrows  and  joys  and  adventures. 
His  blood  seemed  to  smoke  gold,  like  spray  on  rush- 
ing surf  in  sunshine.  Never  had  he  admitted  any 
one  he  had  known  (except  the  people  his  own  mind 
created  for  inhabitants  of  that  kingdom)  into  his 
land ;  but  now  the  girl  whose  name  he  scarcely  knew 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  castle,  asking  to  come  in, 
saying  with  her  eyes,  which  he  had  likened  to  stars, 
that  she  was  the  princess  who  had  a  right  to  live 
there.  Hers  was  the  face  of  his  dream.  She  was 
the  song  of  the  mermaids.  The  voice  he  had 
heard  —  would  always  hear  in  the  sea  —  spoke  of  her. 
She  was  the  light  of  the  morning.  Hers  the  face 
in  the  sunrise,  and  the  twilight.  If  he  lost  her, 
still  her  spirit  would  haunt  him,  in  music,  in  all 
beauty,  for  she  was  the  one  woman,  the  ideal  which 


170     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

is  the  heart  of  a  man's  heart.  She  must  be  worthy, 
because  there  was  no  other  princess  for  this  kingdom 
of  his,  east  of  the  sun  and  west  of  the  moon;  and 
without  her  the  rooms  of  the  castle  would  hold  only 
echoes. 

Vanno  would  have  died  rather  than  speak  out 
such  thoughts  to  any  one  on  earth,  for  they  were 
the  property  of  that  self  which  his  brother  Angelo 
said  was  at  war  with  the  other  self,  the  self  which  the 
world  knew. 

Now  and  then,  as  he  walked  up  the  mule  path 
with  a  step  which  became  lighter  with  the  lightness 
of  the  air,  he  threw  a  word  in  Italian  to  a  passing 
peasant,  some  Ligurian-looking  man  who  drove 
a  bright-coloured  market  garden  ending  in  a  don- 
key's head  and  tail.  Eyes  and  teeth  flashed  com- 
prehension, but  the  answer  was  in  a  queer  patois, 
a  hotch-potch  of  Latin,  Italian,  French,  and  Arabic. 

On  the  top  of  the  mountain  Vanno  breakfasted, 
at  a  pink  hotel  fantastically  built  in  hybrid  Moorish 
style.  From  his  window-table  he  could  see  the 
Tour  de  Supplice  on  a  height  below;  a  broken  col- 
umn of  stone  said  to  mark  the  place  where  Romans 
tortured  and  executed  their  prisoners.  Far  be- 
neath lay  the  Rock  of  Hercules  and  Monte  Carlo, 
the  four  unequal  horns  of  the  great  white  animal 
springing  saliently  to  the  eye  even  at  this  height. 
To  the  right,  the  great  iron-gray  bulk  of  the  Tete 
de  Chien  hid  the  promontories  which,  like  immense 
prehistoric  reptiles,  swam  out  to  sea  beyond  Beau- 
lieu;  but  to  the  left  were  the  mountains  of  Italy, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      171 

their  highest  ridges  marbled  with  dazzling  snow;  and 
Cap  Martin's  green  length  was  frilled  with  silver 
ripples. 

Still  Vanno  was  happy,  as  he  had  not  been  since 
he  saw  Mary  dining  alone  in  the  restaurant  of  the 
Hotel  de  Paris.  He  had  made  a  plan  for  the  next 
hours,  which  gave  him  hope  for  the  future. 

After  breakfast,  he  walked  into  the  gray  and 
ancient  mountain-village  of  La  Turbie,  whose  old 
houses  and  walls  of  tunnelled  streets  were  built 
from  the  wreckage  of  Caesar's  Trophy.  Jewish 
faces  peered  at  him  from  high,  dark  windows,  for 
here  it  was  that,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  Jews  fled  from 
persecution,  and  made  La  Turbie  a  Jewish  settle- 
ment. Even  in  the  newer  town  of  pink  and  blue 
and  yellow  houses  there  were  Jewish  faces  to  be 
seen  in  dusky  shops  where  fruit  was  displayed  for 
sale,  in  heaps  like  many-coloured  jewels. 

Just  beyond  the  oldest  outskirts  Vanno  came 
to  the  foot  of  the  monument,  unspeakably  majestic 
still,  though  long  ago  stripped  of  its  splendid 
marbles,  and  its  statues  that  commemorated  Cae- 
sar's triumph.  Men  were  working  in  the  shadow 
of  the  vast  column  of  stone  and  crumbling  Roman 
brick,  digging  for  lost  knowledge  in  the  form  of 
broken  inscriptions,  hands  and  heads  of  statues, 
bits  of  carved  cornice,  and  a  hundred  buried  treas- 
ures by  means  of  which  the  historical  puzzle-picture 
might  gradually  be  matched  together.  Vanno  be- 
came interested,  and  spent  an  hour  watching  and 
talking  to  the  superintendent  of  the  work,  a  cul- 


172     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

tured  archaeologist.  When  he  began  his  descent  of 
the  mountain,  a  train  on  the  funicular  railroad  was 
feeling  its  way  cautiously  down  the  steep  moun- 
tainside, like  a  child  on  tiptoe.  A  little  weak, 
irritable  sniff  came  up  from  its  engine  as  the  toy 
train  paused  at  one  of  the  three  stopping  places 
below  La  Turbie.  It  was  like  a  very  young  girl 
blowing  her  nose  after  crying. 

Vanno  did  not  go  down  to  the  low  levels;  but 
asking  the  way  of  an  old  peasant  whose  head  was 
wrapped  in  a  red  handkerchief,  he  learned  how  to 
find  the  hill-village  of  Roquebrune,  keeping  to  the 
mule  paths.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  invite 
himself  to  lunch  with  his  old  friend  the  cure. 

This  was  another  world  from  the  world  of  the 
Casino  and  shops  and  hotels.  The  very  air  was 
different;  nimble,  and  crystal  clear.  All  the  per- 
fumes were  aromatic;  balsam  of  pine,  and  the  coun- 
try sweetness  of  thyme  and  mint,  the  pure  breath 
of  nature.  Sloping  down  the  mountains  eastward 
toward  Italy  and  descending  more  than  halfway 
from  La  Turbie,  Vanno  came  to  the  rock-town 
with  the  ruined  castle  which  Mary  had  looked 
up  to  from  Monte  Carlo  in  last  night's  sunset.  It 
seemed  to  have  slid  from  a  taller  height  above,  and 
to  have  been  arrested  by  miracle  before  much  harm 
was  done;  and  Vanno  remembered  the  cure's  firs.t 
letter  which  had  told  him  the  legend  of  the  place: 
how  Roquebrune  in  punishment  for  the  sins  of  its 
inhabitants  was  shaken  off  its  high  eyrie  by  a  great 
earthquake,  but  stopped  on  the  shoulder  of  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     173 

mountain  through  intercession  of  the  Virgin,  the 
special  patron  sainte  merge  of  the  district.  The  town 
and  its  dominating  castle  seen  from  below  showed 
as  if  flattened  against  the  mountain's  breast;  but 
coming  into  the  place  on  foot,  the  mountain  retired 
into  the  background,  and  the  huge  mediaeval  ruin 
was  sovereign  lord  of  all. 

The  whole  village  had  been  made  by  robbing  the 
castle  of  brick  and  stone,  as  La  Turbie  was  built 
of  the  Trophy.  The  castle  itself  grew  out  of  the 
rock,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  see  where  nature's 
work  ended  or  men's  began;  and  the  old,  old  houses 
crowding  up  to  and  huddled  against  its  founda- 
tions had  cramped  themselves  into  ledges  and 
boulders  like  men  making  their  last  stand  in  a 
mountain  battle.  The  streets  were  tunnels,  with 
vistas  of  long,  dark  stone  stairways  running  up  and 
down  into  mystery.  Here  and  there  above  secretive 
doorways  were  beautiful  carvings  set  into  the  thick 
stone  walls,  relics  of  the  castle's  decorations.  At 
sharp  corners  were  tiny  shops  with  dark  interiors, 
and  strange  assortments  of  golden  oranges,  big 
pearly  onions,  ruby  beets,  and  bright  green,  peasant 
pottery  in  low-browed  windows  and  on  uneven 
doorsteps.  Dark  Saracen  eyes  gleamed  out  of  the 
cold  shadows  in  tunnelled  streets,  seeming  to  warm 
them  with  their  light;  and  as  Vanno  reached  the  tiny 
Place  where  towered  a  large,  old  church,  the  pave- 
ment was  flooded  by  a  wave  of  brown-faced  boys 
and  girls,  laughing  and  shouting.  School  was  just 
out;  and  behind  the  children  followed  a  man  in  the 


174     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

black  cassock  of  a  priest.  He  was  walking  slowly, 
reading  from  a  little  book.  Vanno  stood  still, 
with  eagerness  and  affection  in  his  eyes,  and  willed 
him  to  look  up. 

This  man  had  been  the  Prince's  tutor,  after  Vanno 
was  six,  until  he  had  passed  his  tenth  birthday.  It 
was  years  now  since  they  had  seen  each  other, 
eight  perhaps,  for  it  must  be  as  long  ago  that  the 
cure  had  come  back  to  visit  Rome.  But  the  cheery, 
intelligent  dark  face  had  not  changed  much,  except 
that  it  was  less  round,  and  the  silvering  of  the  once 
black  hair  had  spiritualized  it  strangely. 

The  wave  of  children,  after  glances  thrown  at 
the  newcomer,  had  ebbed  away  in  different  di- 
rections. The  little  cobble-paved  Place  became 
suddenly  still.  The  priest  moved  leisurely,  reading 
his  book.  Then,  when  he  was  quite  near  Vanno, 
he  suddenly  lifted  his  thick  black  lashes  as  if  a  voice 
had  called  his  name.  His  good  brown  eyes  and  sun- 
burned face  lit  up  as  though  in  a  flash  of  sunlight. 

"  Principino ! "  he  exclaimed. 

Vanno  grasped  both  his  hands,  book  and  all. 

"What  a  happy  surprise!"  cried  the  cure,  in 
Italian,  and  Vanno  answered  in  the  same  language. 

"But  you  knew  I  was  coming  one  of  these  days. 
You  got  my  letter?  And  perhaps  Angelo  has 
written?" 

"Yes.  He  has  written.  I  am  to  take  the  second 
breakfast  with  him  and  his  bride  one  day  soon 
after  they  arrive  at  Cap  Martin,  and  bless  their 
villa  for  them.  You  see,  he  too  remembers  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     175 

poor  old  friend!"  and  the  cure  smiled,  a  charming 
smile,  showing  beautiful  teeth,  strong  and  white 
as  a  boy's.  "He  said  you  would  meet  him,  for 
the  week  of  the  flying  men,  but  that  is  not  quite 
yet.  And  your  letter  said  the  same.  I  did  not 
look  for  you  till  some  days  later." 

"Well,  here  I  am,"  cried  Vanno.  "I  came  only 
yesterday  afternoon,  and  my  first  thought  is  for 
you,  Father.  You  look  just  the  same.  It  might  be 
months  instead  of  years  since  we  saw  each  other 
last!  Will  you  give  me  lunch?  I  had  only  a  cup 
of  coffee  and  a  croissant  at  La  Turbie,  and  I'm  as 
hungry  as  a  wolf. " 

"A  wolf  this  shepherd  is  not  afraid  to  let  into 
his  fold.  Will  I  not  give  you  lunch?  Though,  alas! 
not  being  prepared  for  an  honoured  guest,  it 
will  hardly  be  worth  your  eating.  If  you  have 
changed,  my  Principino,  it  is  for  the  better.  From 
a  youth  you  have  become  a  man. " 

They  walked  together  across  the  Place,  Vanno 
very  slim  and  tall  beside  the  shorter,  squarer  figure 
of  the  man  of  fifty.  Into  the  church  the  cure  led 
the  Prince,  and  through  the  cool,  incense-laden 
dusk  to  a  door  standing  wide  open.  Outside  was 
a  green  brightness,  which  made  the  doorway  in  the 
twilit  church  look  like  a  huge  block  of  flawed  emerald 
set  into  the  wall. 

"My  garden,"  said  the  priest,  speaking  affection- 
ately, as  of  a  loved  child.  "I  think,  Principino,  you 
would  like  your  dejeuner  in  the  grape  arbour. 
It  is  only  a  little  arbour,  and  the  garden  is  small. 


176     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

But  wait,  you  will  see  it  has  a  charm  that  many 
grander  gardens  lack." 

They  stepped  from  the  brown  dusk  of  the  church 
out  into  the  bright  picture  of  a  garden,  which  seemed 
unreal,  a  little  garden  in  a  dream,  as  complete  and 
perfect  in  its  way,  Vanno  thought,  as  an  old  Persian 
prayer  rug. 

It  was  a  tangle  of  orange  and  lemon  trees,  looped 
with  garlands  of  roses  and  flowering  creepers,  car- 
peted with  a  thousand  fragrant,  old-fashioned  flowers, 
and  arboured  with  grapevines  whose  last  year's 
leaves,  though  sparse,  were  still  russet  and  gold: 
altogether  a  mere  bright  ribbon  of  beauty  pinned 
like  a  lover's  knot  on  a  high  shoulder  of  jutting  rock. 
Below  fell  a  precipice,  overhanging  steep  slopes  of 
vineyard,  or  orange  plantations  that  went  sliding 
down  toward  the  far-off  level  of  the  sea,  and  the 
world  of  the  strangers.  Above,  towered  the  ruined 
castle,  immensely  tall,  its  foundation-stones  bedded 
in  dark  rock  and  draped  in  ivy.  In  the  little  gar- 
den, the  hum  of  bees  among  the  flowers  was  like 
an  echo  of  far  off,  fairy  harps. 

"I  think  I  am  dreaming  this,"  said  Vanno.  And 
he  added,  to  himself:  "It's  part  of  my  kingdom,  that 
I  never  saw  before." 

The  cure  laughed,  delighted.  "Luckily  for  me  it 
is  real, "  he  said.  *  'And  now  that  you  are  in  it,  my 
Principino  —  my  one-time  pupil,  my  all-time  friend 
—  it  is  perfect.  I  should  like  you  to  love  it.  I 
should  like  —  yes,  I  should  like  some  great  happi- 
ness to  come  into  your  life  here.  That  is  an  odd 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      177 

fancy,  isn't  it?  for  the  great  happiness  seems  likely 
to  be  mine  in  having  you  with  me.  But  the  idea 
sprang  into  my  mind. " 

"It  is  a  good  idea,"  said  Vanno.  "I  should  like 
it  to  come  true.  I  have  a  favour  to  ask  you,  and 
perhaps  —  who  knows?  —  your  granting  it  may 
somehow  bring  the  wish  to  pass. " 

A  tiny  figure  of  a  woman  —  so  old,  so  fragile  as  to 
look  as  if  she  were  made  of  transparent  porcelain  — 
appeared  as  he  spoke  from  an  arbour  at  the  far  end 
of  the  little  garden,  an  arbour  whose  grapevines 
hung  bannerlike  over  the  precipice.  She  had  a  dish 
in  her  minute,  wrinkled  hands,  and  was  so  sur- 
prised at  sight  of  the  tall  young  stranger  that  she 
nearly  dropped  it. 

"My  little  housekeeper,"  explained  the  cur6. 
"She  comes  to  me  for  a  few  hours  every  day,  to 
keep  me  fed  and  tidy;  and  she  brings  my  meals 
here  to  the  arbour  when  the  weather  is  fine;  for  I 
never  tire  of  the  view,  and  it  gives  me  an  appetite 
that  nothing  else  does." 

"I  see  now  why  your  letters  have  always  been  so 
happy,"  Vanno  said,  "and  why,  when  it  was  offered, 
you  refused  promotion  in  order  to  stay  here. " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  very  happy,  thank  Heaven,  and 
I  do  my  best  to  make  others  so.  God  loves  mirth. 
Dulness  is  of  the  devil!  I  love  the  place  and  the 
people,  and  the  people  love  me,  I  trust,"  the  cur6 
answered,  with  a  bright  and  curiously  spiritual 
smile  which  transfigured  the  sunburned  face.  "You 
have  no.  idea,  my  Principino,  of  the  thousand  inter- 


178     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

ests  we  have  here  in  this  little  mountain  village. 
Once  it  was  of  great  importance.  An  English  king 
came  in  the  fourteenth  century  to  visit  the  Lascaris 
family  at  the  castle.  Those  down  below  hardly 
know  of  its  existence,  even  those  who  come  back 
year  after  year,  but  Roquebrune  and  my  garden 
are  world  enough  for  me.  Is  breakfast  ready, 
Mademoiselle  Luciola?  Thanks;  we  will  begin  as 
soon  as  you  have  brought  things  to  lay  another 
place.  Is  that  not  a  good  name  for  the  wee 
body  —  Firefly?  Oh,  but  you  should  see  our  fire- 
flies here  in  May,  when  the  Riviera  is  supposed 
to  be  wiped  off  the  map,  not  existent  till 
winter.  And  the  glow-worms.  I  have  three  in 
my  garden.  No  garden  is  complete  without  at 
least  one  glow-worm.  I  had  to  beg  my  first  from  a 
neighbour. " 

"I  should  like  to  live  up  here,  and  be  your  neigh- 
bour, and  cultivate  glow-worms,"  said  Vanno,  as 
his  host  guided  him  along  a  narrow  path  which  led 
between  flower-beds  to  the  arbour. 

"Why  not?"  cried  the  priest,  enraptured.  "You 
could  buy  beautiful  land,  a  plateau  of  orange 
trees  and  olives,  carpeted  with  violets  —  the 
petite  campagne  I  spoke  of.  You  could  build  a 
villa,  small  enough  to  shut  up  and  put  to  sleep 
when  you  tired  of  it.  We  would  be  your  caretakers, 
the  old  Mademoiselle  and  I. " 

"Would  you  have  me  live  in  my  villa  alone?" 
Vanno  smiled. 

The  cure  looked  merrily  sly.     "Why  not  with  a 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     179 

bride?  "  he  ventured.    "Why  not  follow  your  brother 
Angelo's  example?" 

'I  must  see  his  bride  first,  to  judge  whether  his 
example  is  worth  following.     We  haven't  met  yet. " 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  "that  reminds  me  of 
rather  a  strange  thing!  There  came  a  lady 
here  —  but  I  will  tell  you,  Principino,  while  we 
lunch." 

Beaming  with  pleasure  in  his  hospitality,  the  cure 
ushered  his  guest  into  the  arbour,  which,  like  a 
seabird's  nest,  almost  overhung  the  cliff.  Under 
shelter  of  the  thick  old  grapevine  and  a  pink  cat- 
aract of  roses,  a  common  deal  table  was  spread  with 
coarse  but  spotless  damask.  In  a  green  saucer  of 
peasant  ware,  one  huge  pink  rose  floated  in  water. 
The  effect  was  more  charming  than  any  bouquet. 
There  was  nothing  to  eat  but  brown  bread  with 
creamy  cheese,  and  grapes  of  a  curious  colour  like 
amber  and  amethysts  melted  and  run  together;  yet 
to  Vanno  it  seemed  a  feast. 

The  cure  explained  that  the  grapes  had  been 
grown  on  this  arbour,  and  that  he  had  them 
to  eat  and  to  give  away,  all  winter.  When  the 
porcelain  doll  of  a  woman  came  back,  she  brought 
a  bottle  of  home-made  wine  for  Vanno,  and  some 
little  sponge  cakes.  But  when  the  Prince  said  that 
in  England  such  cakes  were  named  "lady  fingers," 
the  cure  laughed  gayly,  and  pretended  to  be  horrified. 
This  brought  him  back  to  his  story,  which,  in  the 
excitement  of  helping  his  guest  to  food,  he  had 
almost  forgotten. 


180     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  he  went  on,  "of  a 
strange  thing,  and  a  lady  unknown  to  me,  who  called 
here.  She  was  from  England,  I  should  say." 

Vanno's  heart  gave  a  quick  throb.  "Could  it  be 
possible?"  he  wondered,  "Was  she  young  and 
beautiful?"  he  asked  aloud.  But  the  answer  dashed 
his  rather  childish  hope. 

"Not  beautiful,  and  not  a  girl,  but  young  still. 
'Striking'  would  be  the  word  to  express  her.  And 
her  age,  about  thirty. " 

Vanno  lost  interest.  "Why  was  it  so  strange  that 
she  should  call?"  he  inquired.  "People  must  find 
their  way  here  sometimes,  even  those  who  haven't 
you  for  a  friend. " 

"Yes,  sometimes;  and  I  am  glad  to  see  them. 
This  was  strange  only  because  the  lady  knew  that 
I  was  a  friend  of  your  family.  She  came  because  of 
that,  and  put  a  great  many  questions;  but  she  re- 
fused to  tell  her  name.  She  said  it  was  not  nec- 
essary to  mention  it. " 

Interest  came  back  again  in  a  degree.  "What 
was  she  like?"  the  Prince  wanted  to  know. 

The  cure  thought  for  a  moment,  and  answered 
slowly.  "I  can  see  her  still,"  he  said,  "because 
there  was  something  different  about  her  from  any  one 
else  I  ever  saw.  As  she  came  toward  me  in  the 
Place,  where  you  and  I  met,  she  looked  like  a  statue 
moving,  her  face  was  so  white,  and  her  eyes  seemed 
to  be  white,  too,  like  the  eyes  of  a  statue.  But  when 
she  drew  nearer,  I  saw  that  they  were  a  pale,  whitish 
blue,  rimmed  with  thin  lines  of  black.  There  was 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      181 

very  little  colour  in  her  lips  or  in  her  light  brown 
hair,  and  she  had  on  a  gray  hat  and  travelling  dress. " 

"Idina  Bland!"  Vanno  exclaimed. 

"You  recognize  the  lady  from  my  description?" 

"Yes.  What  you  say  about  her  eyes  is  unmistak- 
able. She's  a  distant  cousin  of  ours  —  on  our 
mother's  side:  Irish,  from  the  north  of  Ireland;  but 
she  has  lived  a  good  deal  in  America  with  my 
mother's  brother  and  sister.  She  has  no  nearer 
relatives  than  ourselves,  and  for  three  winters  she 
was  in  Rome  —  oh,  long  after  you  went  away.  I 

thought  she  was  in  America  now.     I  wonder ' 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  and  his  face  was  troubled. 
"What  questions  did  she  ask  you?"  he  went  on. 
"Were  they  about  —  my  brother?" 

"Yes.  She  wished  to  know  if  I  could  tell  her  just 
when  he  was  expected  with  his  bride,  and  what 
would  be  their  address  when  they  arrived.  I  had 
the  impression  from  something  she  said  that  she  had 
heard  about  me  from  you. " 

"I  don't  remember,"  said  Vanno.  "I  may  have 
mentioned  to  her  that  we  had  a  friend,  a  cure  near 
Monte  Carlo.  She  has  a  singularly  good  memory. 
She  never  forgets  —  or  forgives,"  he  added,  half  un- 
der his  breath.  "When  did  she  come  here?" 

"The  day  before  yesterday  it  was,  Principino. " 

"Did  she  say  whether  she  was  staying  in  the 
neighbourhood?  " 

"No,  she  said  nothing  about  herself,  except  that 
she  had  known  your  family  well  for  years. " 

"And  about  Angelo  —  what?" 


182     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Nothing,  except  the  questions.  She  wanted  me 
to  tell  her  whether  I  had  ever  met  or  heard  anything 
of  his  bride." 

"  I  suppose  you  didn't  give  her  much  satisfaction?  " 

"Not  much,  my  Principino.  I  could  not,  if  I 
would.  But  I  did  say  that  I  believed  they  were  ex- 
pected in  ten  days  or  a  fortnight.  I  hope  I  was  not 
indiscreet?" 

"Not  at  all.     Only  —  but  it  doesn't  matter." 

"Then,  if  it  doesn't  matter,  let  us  turn  to  a  sub- 
ject nearer  our  hearts.  The  favour  you  wished  to 
ask?  Which  you  may  consider  granted." 

After  all,  it  was  not  quite  as  easy  to  explain  as 
Vanno  had  thought,  in  his  moments  of  exaltation 
on  the  mountain.  But  he  was  still  determined  to 
carry  out  his  plan. 

"You  know,  Father,  when  I  was  a  little  boy  I 
used  to  talk  with  you  about  what  I  should  do  when 
I  grew  up,  and  how  I  should  never  fall  in  love  with 
any  girl,  no  matter  how  beautiful,  unless  she  had 
eyes  like  my  favourite  stars?  How  you  used  to 
laugh  about  those  'eyes  like  stars!'  Yesterday  I 
saw  a  girl  in  a  train  at  Marseilles.  I  got  into  the 
train,  meaning  to  follow  her,  no  matter  how  far.  It 
was  not  like  me  to  do  that." 

"Pardon  me.  I  think  it  was,"  chuckled  the  cure. 
"You  would  always  act  on  impulse,  you  man  of 
fire  —  and  ice. " 

"Well,  she  got  off  at  Monte  Carlo,  where  I  my 
self  wanted  to  stop.     I  thought  that  was  great  luck, 
at  first.     I  turned  over  in  my  mind  ways  of  making 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  183 

her  acquaintance.  I  believed  it  would  be  hard  to 
do,  but  I  meant  to  do  it.  Now,  I'm  not  sure  —  not 
sure  of  anything  about  her.  I'm  not  even  sure 
whether  I  want  to  know  her  or  not.  The  favour  I 
have  to  ask  is,  that  you  help  me  to  judge  —  and 
help  her,  if  you  have  to  judge  harshly. " 

"I?" 

"Yes,  you,  Father.  If  she  needs  help,  I'm  not  the 
one  to  help  her.  But  you  could  do  it."  And  Vanno 
plunged  deeper  into  explanations,  warming  with  his 
story  and  forgetting  his  first  shy  stiffness. 

As  he  talked,  the  cure's  gaze  dwelt  on  him  af- 
fectionately, appreciatively.  He  admired  the  clear 
look  and  its  fire  of  noble  purity,  not  often  seen,  he 
feared,  on  the  face  of  a  young  man  brought  up  to 
believe  the  world  at  his  feet.  He  admired  the 
dark  eyes,  profound  as  the  African  nights  they  had 
loved.  He  noted  the  rich  brown  of  the  swarthy 
young  face,  clear  as  the  profile  on  old  Roman  coins, 
and  thought,  as  he  had  thought  before,  that  Murillo 
would  have  liked  to  paint  that  colouring.  He  ap- 
proved his  Prince's  way  of  speaking,  when  he  lost 
self-consciousness  and  his  gestures  became  free  and 
winged.  "How  his  mother  would  have  loved  him 
as  he  is  now,  if  she  had  lived,"  the  priest  thought, 
remembering  the  warm-hearted  Irish-American  girl, 
whose  impulses  had  been  held  down  by  the  sombre 
asceticism  of  her  husband,  which  increased  with 
years.  No  wonder  Prince  Vanno  was  his  father's 
favourite!  Angelo  had  written  that  the  duke  disap- 
proved his  marriage,  but  that  Vanno  when  he  had 


184     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

met  the  bride  would  "somehow  make  it  all  come 
right. "  It  would  be  a  terrible  thing  if  this  younger 
son  should  fall  in  love  with  the  wrong  woman;  but 
it  was  too  early  yet  to  begin  preachings  and  warnings. 
The  cure's  kind  heart  gave  him  great  tact. 

"I  am  to  go  downstairs  and  look  at  this  lady, 
then?"  he  said. 

"Downstairs?" 

"Only  my  expression  for  going  down  there.  I 
always  say  that  I  live  upstairs,  here  at  Roquebrune. 
And  I  like  the  upstairs  life  best." 

"Well,  you  must  come  down  and  dine  with  me, 
anyhow.  Then  you  will  see  her,  and  tell  me  what 
you  think. " 

The  cure  broke  into  a  laugh  like  a  boy's.  "Me 
dine  at  your  Hotel  de  Paris,  my  son?  That  is  a 
funny  thought.  You're  inconsistent.  If  you  think 
it  unsuitable  for  a  lady  alone,  what  about  me,  a 
poor  country  priest  from  the  mountains?" 

"You  wouldn't  be  alone.  And  you're  a  man. 
Besides,  it's  a  good  object.  When  you've  seen  her, 
you  must  make  acquaintance  with  her  somehow.  / 
won't  do  it.  Not  while  I  doubt  her." 

"Hm!  My  Principino,  you  don't  know  what  you 
are  asking  me.  I  am  a  priest." 

"That's  why  I  ask  you.  She's  — I'll  tell  you, 
Father,  if  she  goes  on  winning  money,  you  can  write 
to  beg  for  your  poor.  Then,  if  she's  charitable, 
she'll  give,  and  come  up  to  see  your  church. " 

"And  you  think  the  rest  is  simple!  Well,  for  your 
sake  I  will  do  what  I  can. " 


"Will  you  dine  with  me  to-night?" 

"Impossible.  I  cannot  leave  the  village  for  so 
much  as  an  hour  for  the  present.  I  am  shepherd  of 
a  mountain  flock,  remember,  and  my  first  duty  is  to 
them.  At  any  moment  I  may  have  a  summons  to 
one  who  is  dying.  A  black  sheep  he  has  been 
perhaps,  but  all  the  more  should  he  be  washed 
white  at  the  last.  And  I  must  hold  myself  ready  to 
give  him  the  extreme  unction  when  I  am  sent  for, 
if  it  be  now  or  not  till  next  week. " 

Vanno  had  set  his  heart  upon  his  plan,  and  could 
hardly  bear  to  have  it  indefinitely  postponed;  but 
he  had  learned  through  old  experience  that  his  good 
friend  was  not  one  to  be  persuaded  from  duty. 

"You'll  let  me  know  the  moment  you're  free,  in 
any  case, "  he  urged. 

"That  very  moment.  But,  meanwhile,  something 
may  happen  that  will  help  you  to  judge  the  lady 
for  yourself  —  something  definite. " 

"I  should  have  judged  her  already,  if  it  weren't 
for  her  eyes,"  Vanno  said,  with  a  sigh.  "They 
have  a  look  as  if  she'd  just  seen  heaveni  I  can 
hardly  tell  you  how,  but  they  are  different  from 
all  other  women's  eyes.  They  send  out  a  ray  of 
light,  like  an  arrow  to  your  heart." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  exclaimed  the  priest. 

"Don't  laugh,  Father.  It's  true,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  about  her  as  I  did  from  the  first  moment 
wre  looked  at  each  other.  She's  beautiful,  but  I 
assure  you  it  wasn't  her  beauty  that  made  me  fol- 
low her.  It  was  something  more  mysterious  than 


186     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

that.  I  swear  to  you,  it  was  as  if  her  eyes  said  to 
me,  'Why,  here  you  are  at  last,  you  whom  I've 
known  since  the  beginning  of  things.  I  am  the  one 
you've  waited  for  all  your  life. ' ' 

"All  your  life!    Twenty-seven  years,  is  it  not?" 

"Twenty-nine  this  month,  Father.  I'm  not  a 
boy,  and  I've  cared  very  much  only  for  one  woman. 
I  wasn't  twenty  then,  and  it's  partly  her  fault  that 
it's  hard  for  me  to  believe  in  others." 

"That's  scarcely  fair  to  the  others.  One  woman 
isn't  all  womanhood." 

"Ah,  it's  odd  you  should  have  said  that,  for  the 
thought  in  my  mind  has  been  that  this  girl  —  this 
girl  who  has  a  child's  face,  I  tell  you,  Father  - 
seems  somehow  to  represent  womanhood,  the  woman 
of  all  time:  the  type,  you  know,  that  no  man  can 
resist.  There's  a  kind  of  divine  softness  about  her 
which  calls  to  all  there  is  in  one  of  manhood  —  or 
romance.  I  can't  describe  it. " 

"You  have  made  me  understand,"  the  cure  an- 
swered quietly.  "And  you  have  made  me  —  for 
your  sake  —  want  to  find  out  as  soon  as  I  possibly 
can  what  truth  is  under  all  this  sweetness.'' 


XI 

THE  first  question  Mary  asked  on  coming  down- 
stairs in  the  morning  was,  "At  what  hour  does  the 
Casino  open?'* 

Ten  o'clock,  she  was  told. 

It  was  not  yet  nine.     A  long  time  to  wait! 

Most  people  at  the  Paris  breakfasted  in  their 
rooms,  but  never  in  her  life  had  Mary  eaten  break- 
fast in  her  bedroom.  She  went  to  last  night's 
table  in  the  great  glass  window  of  the  restaurant, 
and  was  hardly  sure  whether  she  felt  relieved  or 
disappointed  not  to  see  the  young  man  with  the 
Dante  profile.  She  did  not  now  think  him  in  the 
least  like  Romeo. 

From  the  window,  to  her  surprise,  she  saw  a 
crowd  collecting  in  front  of  the  Casino,  whose  doors 
were  still  closed. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  almost  alarmed, 
lest  there  had  been  an  accident. 

"It  is  the  early  ones  waiting  for  the  doors  to 
open,"  her  waiter  explained.  He  brought  her  a 
poached  egg  on  toast,  but  a  superlative  egg,  poached 
and  adorned  according  to  the  conception  of  a 
French  chef.  The  air  with  which  the  silver  cover 
was  taken  off  and  the  dish  shown  to  Mary  made  her 
feel  there  was  nothing  she  could  do  to  show  her 

187 


188     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

appreciation,  without  disappointing  the  man,  unless 
she  bent  down  and  kissed  the  egg  passionately. 
Her  smile  seemed  inadequate,  and  she  ate  with  a 
worried  fear  of  seeming  ungrateful,  especially  as 
she  was  impelled  to  hurry,  lest  those  people  in  front 
of  the  Casino  should  take  all  the  places  at  the  tables. 
She  wanted  to  sit  down  to  gamble,  for  the  strenuous 
game  she  had  played  last  night,  with  many  stakes, 
would  be  impossible  when  stretching  over  people's 
heads. 

By  half-past  nine  she  was  in  the  crowd,  all  her 
money,  with  the  exception  of  two  hundred  pounds 
she  had  put  by,  crushed  into  her  big  beaded  hand- 
bag. She  remembered  how  at  Aberdeen  the  night 
she  went  to  the  theatre  people  stood  like  this, 
patiently  waiting  for  the  pit-door  to  open.  What 
did  she  not  remember  about  that,  her  first  and 
only  visit  to  a  theatre? 

At  last  the  Casino  doors  yawned,  as  if  they  disliked 
waking  up.  The  procession  rolled  toward  them,  like 
a  determined  and  vigorous  python.  Mary  was  car- 
ried ahead  with  the  rush.  She  had  forgotten  that 
she  ought  to  have  renewed  her  ticket,  but  for- 
tunately she  was  not  asked  for  it;  and  as  she  had 
come  without  a  wrap,  there  was  nothing  to  turn  her 
aside  from  the  rooms. 

Once  across  the  threshold  of  the  big  Salle 
Schmidt,  the  struggle  began.  It  was  not  only  the 
young  and  agile  who  raced  each  other  to  the 
tables.  Men  who  looked  as  if  they  might  have 
pulled  one  foot  from  the  grave  in  order  to  reach 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      189 

the  Casino,  hobbled  wildly  across  the  slippery  floor. 
Fat  elderly  ladies  waddled  with  indomitable  speed, 
like  women  tied  up  in  bags  for  an  obstacle  race; 
and  an  invalid  gentleman,  a  famous  player,  with 
his  attendant  —  the  first  to  get  in  —  was  swept 
along  in  a  small  bath  chair  ahead  of  the  crowd,  an 
expression  of  fierce  exhilaration  on  a  gaunt  face 
white  as  bleached  bone.  But  the  young  and 
healthy  gamblers  had  an  advantage,  especially 
those  with  long  legs. 

Only  yesterday  Mary  would  have  let  herself  be 
passed  by  every  one,  rather  than  push  into  a  place 
which  somebody  else  wanted.  Now,  however,  the 
gambler's  fever  was  in  her.  Whatever  happened, 
she  must  get  a  seat  at  the  table  where  she  had 
played  last  night.  To  do  so  was  the  most  important 
thing  on  earth.  Slender  and  tall  and  long-limbed, 
she  ran  like  a  young  Diana;  though  not  since  she  had 
become  Sister  Rose  had  she  ever  been  undignified 
enough  to  run.  Straight  as  an  arrow  she  aimed 
for  the  table  she  wanted,  and  convulsively  seized 
the  back  of  the  last  unclaimed  chair.  It  was 
grasped  at  the  same  instant  by  a  young  man  of 
rather  distinguished  appearance,  who  would  in  other 
circumstances  no  doubt  have  yielded  place  to  a 
woman,  especially  a  young  and  pretty  girl.  But  he 
too  had  the  gambler's  fever.  He  struggled  with 
Mary  for  the  chair,  and  would  have  secured  it  by 
superior  strength  if  she  had  not  dropped  limply  into 
it  as  he  drew  it  out  for  himself. 

"Well  done!"  muttered  a  woman  already  settled 


190     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

in  a  neighbouring  seat.  "That's  one  of  the  Pre- 
tenders to  the  throne  of  Portugal." 

Instead  of  being  overawed,  Mary  found  herself 
laughing  in  the  joy  of  her  triumph.  "He  can't 
have  this  throne,  anyhow,"  she  panted,  out  of 
breath. 

Then  she  noticed  that  Lord  Dauntrey  was  with 
her  defeated  rival.  He  had  secured  a  chair,  but 
getting  up,  gave  it  to  the  royal  personage,  who  was 
his  paying  guest  at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista.  Lord 
Dauntrey  had  not  seen,  or  had  not  recognized,  Mary. 
He  appeared  to  be  more  alive  than  he  had  been 
before,  almost  a  different  man.  Though  his  features 
were  stonily  calm  as  the  features  of  a  mask,  Mary 
felt  that  he  was  intensely  excited,  and  completely 
absorbed  in  the  game  about  to  begin.  He  had  a 
notebook  over  which  his  sleek  brown  head  and  Dom 
Ferdinand  de  Trevanna's  short  black  curls  were  bent 
eagerly.  It  was  evident  that  they  had  some  plan 
of  play  which  they  were  working  out  together. 

It  was  just  as  thrilling,  Mary  thought,  to  be  in 
the  Casino  by  day  as  by  night,  and  even  more  in- 
teresting now,  because  she  knew  how  to  play,  instead 
of  having  to  depend  upon  Madame  d'Ambre.  She 
had  feared  that  her  too  solicitous  friend  might  be 
lying  in  wait  for  her  this  morning,  but  she  need  have 
had  no  anxiety.  Madeleine  never  appeared  before 
noon.  Perhaps  she  might  have  made  a  superhuman 
effort  had  there  been  reasonable  hope  of  anything 
to  gain.  But  Madame  d'Ambre  had  learned  to 
read  faces:  and  Mary's  had  told  her  that  for  a  time 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     191 

there  was  nothing  more  to  expect.     She  would  be 
comfortably  lazy  while  her  money  held  out. 

Mary's  seat  was  near  the  spinner,  one  of  the 
croupiers  who  had  seen  her  sensational  wins  twelve 
hours  ago.  He  smiled  recognition.  "Take  zero 
again,  and  the  neighbours, "  he  mumbled  cautiously. 
"I'll  try  and  make  you  win." 

Mary  wanted  to  know  what  "neighbours"  meant, 
and  was  told  hastily  that  they  were  the  numbers 
lying  nearest  to  zero  on  the  wheel. 

"But  I  feel  as  if  twenty-four  would  come,"  she 
objected. 

"Very  well,  if  Mademoiselle  prefers  twenty-four, 
I  will  see  what  I  can  do,"  replied  the  obliging  croup- 
ier, like  most  of  his  fellow-spinners  wishing  to  give 
the  impression  that  he  could  control  the  ball. 

Twenty-four  did  not  respond  to  his  efforts,  but 
twenty -two  was  the  first  number  spun,  and  as  Mary 
had  staked  maximums  on  everything  surrounding 
her  number,  she  won  heavily.  Throughout  the 
whole  morning  luck  still  favoured  her.  She  lost 
sometimes,  and  her  wins  were  not  as  sensational  as 
those  of  last  night,  but  they  made  people  stare  and 
talk,  and  added  so  many  notes  to  the  troublesome 
contents  of  her  bag  that,  to  the  amusement  of 
everybody,  when  the  time  came  to  go  she  stuffed 
gold  and  paper  into  the  long  gloves  she  had  taken  off 
while  playing.  Both  gloves  were  full  and  bulged 
out  in  queer  protuberances,  like  Christmas  stock- 
ings. But  this  was  not  until  nearly  two  o'clock, 
when  Mary  had  grown  so  hungry  that  she  could  no 


192     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

longer  concentrate  her  thoughts  upon  the  game. 
Meanwhile,  different  relays  of  croupiers  and  in- 
spectors had  come  and  gone,  and  the  crowd  round 
the  table  had  changed.  Very  few  remained  of  the 
players  who  had  raced  for  chairs  at  the  opening  hour. 
Many  had  lost  and  taken  themselves  off,  dis- 
couraged; others  had  a  habit  of  darting  from  table 
to  table  "for  luck";  some  had  won  as  much  as  they 
wanted  to  win,  and  departed  quietly  as  a  man  goes 
home  from  his  office.  But  among  the  few  faithful 
ones  were  Lord  Dauntrey  and  his  royal  friend,  who 
was  stared  at  a  good  deal,  and  evidently  recognized. 
By  this  time  Lord  Dauntrey  had  noticed  Mary,  his 
attention  being  attracted  to  her  by  Dom  Ferdinand, 
but  as  he  had  not  been  introduced  to  the  girl  in  the 
train,  he  did  not  bow.  The  excitement  had  died 
from  his  face,  leaving  it  gray  as  the  ashes  in  a 
burnt-out  fire,  and  his  cheeks  looked  curiously  loose 
on  the  bones,  as  if  his  muscles  had  fallen  away 
underneath.  Mary  had  not  taken  time  to  watch 
his  game,  but  she  saw  that  most  of  the  silver  and 
gold  once  neatly  piled  in  front  of  the  two  players 
had  disappeared,  and  she  was  afraid  that  they 
had  lost  a  good  deal.  It  seemed  unnecessary 
and  almost  stupid  to  her  that  people  should  lose. 
She  did  not  see  why  every  one  could  not  play  as 
she  did. 

As  she  reluctantly  rose  to  go  away,  driven  by 
hunger,  she  had  to  pass  close  to  Dom  Ferdinand 
and  Lord  Dauntrey.  There  was  no  crowd  round 
the  chairs,  as  the  morning  throng  had  thinned  for 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     193 

dejeuner,  and  she  heard  Lord  Dauntrey  say:  "I 
assure  you,  Monseigneur,  it  never  went  as  badly  as 
this  on  my  roulette  at  home.  You  saw  the  records. 
But  nobody  can  win  at  every  seance.  Don't  be  dis- 
couraged. I'm  confident  my  system's  unbreakable 
in  the  end. " 

It  was  half-past  two  when  Mary  began  luncheon, 
and  she  had  to  finish  in  a  hurry  when  Schuyler  and 
Carleton  called  for  her  with  the  motor-car.  She 
was  sorry  that  she  had  promised  to  look  at  anything 
so  irrelevant  as  an  aeroplane,  and  felt  nervously 
irritable  because  she  could  not  at  once  go  back  to 
her  game.  She  could  almost  hear  the  Casino  calling 
her  in  a  musical,  golden  voice:  "I  have  something 
nice  to  give  you.  Why  don't  you  come  and  take 
it?"  But  it  was  interesting  to  tell  the  two 
men  about  her  luck  of  the  morning.  Each  detail  of 
the  play  was  so  fascinating  to  her  that  she  would 
hardly  have  believed  it  possible  for  the  story  to  bore 
any  one  else.  She  did  not  ask  a  single  question 
about  the  remarkable  hydro-aeroplane  in  which 
Carleton  was  to  compete  for  an  important  prize 
next  week;  nor  did  she  see  the  pitying  smile  the 
men  exchanged  while  she  entertained  them  with  an 
exact  account  of  how  she  had  staked,  what  she  had 
lost,  and  what  she  had  won.  "Poor  child!"  the 
look  said.  But  neither  man  blamed  the  girl  for  her 
selfish  absorption.  Both  understood  the  phase  very 
well,  and  it  was  not  long  since  Carleton  had  lived 
it  down,  thanks  to  some  friendly  brutality  on  Jim's 
part.  As  for  Schuyler,  though  he  never  played  at 


194     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  Casino,  it  was  because  he  had  played  too  often 
when  a  younger  man,  in  America.  Roulette  and 
trente  et  quarante  bored  him  now,  though  the  great 
game  in  Wall  Street  still  had  power  over  his  nerves, 
when  he  was  in  the  thick  of  it.  One  reason  that  he 
avoided  society  at  Monte  Carlo  and  invited  few 
people  to  his  house  was  because  the  constant  babble 
about  the  "Rooms"  and  the  "tables"  exhausted  his 
vitality,  making  him  feel,  as  he  said,  "like  a  field- 
mouse  in  a  vacuum. "  Sometimes  it  had  seemed  to 
him  that,  if  once  again  he  heard  any  one  say, 
"Oh,  if  only  I  had  played  on  seventeen!"  he  would 
be  forced  to  strike  the  offender,  or  rush  away  in  self- 
defence. 

Already  Mary's  eyes  were  losing  the  starlike 
clearness  of  their  delight  in  all  things  novel  or 
beautiful.  They  looked  mistily  introspective,  as  if 
they  were  studying  some  combination  going  on  in 
the  brain  behind  them;  and  when  she  could  not  talk 
about  roulette  she  relapsed  at  once  into  absent- 
mindedness.  But  even  her  absorbed  interest  in 
the  new  pursuit  was  not  proof  against  the  hydro- 
aeroplane lurking  in  its  hangar.  It  looked  wonder- 
ful, yet  she  could  not  believe  that  it  was  able  really 
to  rise  out  of  the  water  into  air. 

"I  assure  you  it  does,  though,  and  it  can  run  on 
land,  too,"  said  Carleton,  eagerly.  "Surely  you 
must  have  read  of  Glenn  Curtiss  and  his  Triad,  that 
made  such  a  sensation  in  America?  You  can  ask 
Jim.  He  saw  my  first  successful  experiment  in  the 
Hudson  River  six  weeks  ago. " 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      195 

"And  one  or  two  unsuccessful  ones,  too,"  laughed 
Jim.  "But  I  really  think,  Miss  Grant,  that  Carle- 
ton's  got  his  pet  dragon  into  pretty  good  training 
now,  both  as  a  land  and  water  and  air  animal.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  we'd  see  something  worth  seeing 
next  week  at  Nice  —  and  it  will  be  new  on  this  coast, 
for  there've  been  no  hydro-aeroplanes  tried  here 
before. " 

"Next  week?"  echoed  Mary.  "Shan't  I  see  any- 
thing now?  I  thought  Mr.  Carleton  meant  to  go  up 
in  the  air  to-day. " 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  it,  but  I  will  if  you  like. 
That  is,  I'll  try, "  said  Carleton,  modestly. 

"I  —  oh,  how  I  should  love  to  go  with  you!" 
Mary  exclaimed.  "Can  you  carry  people?" 

"One  passenger  at  a  time,  yes.  You  wouldn't 
really  like  it,  would  you?"  he  asked,  flushing  under 
the  compliment  of  her  trust  in  him,  and  admiring 
her  pluck.  "You  don't  mean  that  you'd  go  up  with 
me?" 

"I  would  if  you'd  take  me. "  Her  eyes  were  shin- 
ing once  more.  "It  would  be  —  like  all  one's  most 
marvellous  dreams  come  true." 

"You  wouldn't  be  afraid?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  with  you." 

This  was  delicious  flattery.  Carleton  promptly 
fell  in  love  with  Mary.  Not  to  have  done  so  would 
have  been  base  ingratitude.  No  woman  had  ever 
paid  him  so  great  a  compliment.  He  had  thought 
her  bewilderingly  pretty  before.  Now  she  was  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world. 


196     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You're  the  bravest  girl  on  earth!"  he  exclaimed, 
ardently. 

"Better  leave  her  on  earth,  then,"  Schuyler  said 
dryly.  "We  need  brave  women. " 

"There's  no  danger,"  Carleton  protested  with 
indignation.  "Do  you  think  I'd  take  her,  if  I 
thought  there  were?" 

"Not  if  you  thought  there  were.  And  I  don't 
say  there  is.  But  Miss  Grant's  here  without  her 
people ' 

"I  have  no  people,"  Mary  cut  him  short.  "Be- 
cause you  can't  count  aunts,  can  you,  especially  if 
they  dislike  you  very  much?" 

Both  men  laughed. 

"  I  must  be  your  passenger, "  she  said.  "  Now  I've 
seen  the  hydro-aeroplane,  I  shan't  eat  or  sleep  till 
I've  been  up  in  it. " 

Carleton  looked  at  his  host.  "You  know,  at 
worst  she  could  only  get  a  wetting  if  I  kept  over  the 
sea, "  he  said.  "And  very  likely  the  Flying  Fish  will 
be  cranky  and  refuse  to  rise." 

"Here's  hoping!"  mumbled  Schuyler.  He  did 
not  define  the  exact  nature  of  his  hope,  but  offered 
no  further  objections. 

Mary,  seeing  that  she  was  to  have  her  wish,  was 
anxious  to  start  at  once,  and  almost  surprised  at 
herself  for  her  own  courage.  But  Carleton  ex- 
plained that  she  could  not  "make  an  ascent,"  as  he 
laconically  called  it,  dressed  as  she  was.  She  must 
have  a  small,  close  fitting  hat,  and  a  veil  to  tie  it 
firmly  down,  also  a  heavy  wrap.  He  had  an  oilskin 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     197 

coat  which  he  could  lend  her,  to  put  over  it.  Mary 
was  not,  however,  to  be  turned  from  her  desire  by 
small  obstacles.  She  had  no  very  thick  coat, 
but  knew  where  to  buy  a  lovely  moleskin,  very 
long,  down  to  her  feet.  She  could  secure  it  and 
be  ready  in  ten  minutes  if  Mr.  Schuyler  would  send 
her  up  the  hill  in  his  car.  Permission  was  granted 
and  she  went  spinning  off  with  the  chauffeur,  both 
Schuyler  and  Carleton  awaiting  her  return  at  the 
hangar,  down  on  the  beach  by  the  harbour. 

The  "ten  minutes"  prolonged  themselves  to 
twenty,  and  while  they  were  slowly  passing,  three 
men  who  had  been  on  the  Rock,  writing  their  names 
in  the  visitors'  book  at  the  palace,  came  strolling 
down  the  long  flight  of  paved  steps  to  the  harbour. 
One  of  these  was  Captain  Hannaford.  The  other 
Englishman  was  also  an  officer,  Major  Norwood, 
who  had  known  Hannaford  long  ago.  And  the 
third  member  of  the  party  was  the  Maharajah  of 
Indorwana,  an  extremely  troublesome  young  Indian 
royalty  who  was  "seeing  Europe"  under  the  guar- 
dianship of  his  reluctant  bear  leader,  Norwood. 
Since  the  pair  had  landed  at  Marseilles,  three  weeks 
ago,  Norwood  had  passed  scarcely  a  peaceful  mo- 
ment by  night  or  day.  His  authority  over  his  charge 
was  officially  absolute;  but  in  practise  it  could  only 
be  enforced  by  violence,  which  the  unfortunate  offi- 
cer had  not  yet  brought  himself  to  exert.  If  he 
did  not  wish  the  Maharajah  (who  was  twenty  and 
had  never  before  been  out  of  his  native  land)  to  fall 
into  some  new  mischief  every  hour,  he  was  obliged 


198     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to  find  for  the  youth  a  ceaseless  succession  of 
amusements.  Monte  Carlo  was  to  have  been  but 
the  affair  of  a  day.  The  Maharajah,  however,  had 
decided  differently.  He  liked  the  place,  and  firmly 
refused  to  move.  The  two  had  now  been  staying 
for  a  week  at  the  Metropole,  and  Major  Norwood 
had  telegraphed  to  the  India  Office  in  London  for 
instructions. 

The  night  before,  he  had  been  dragged  by  his 
charge  to  three  dances  at  open-all-night  restaurants, 
where  professionals  entertained  the  audience.  The 
Maharajah  had  insisted  on  learning  to  dance,  his 
instructress  being  an  attractive  Russian  girl;  then, 
as  the  fun  grew  furious,  he  had  forgotten  his  eastern 
dignity,  and  pirouetted  for  a  wager,  with  a  valuable 
jar  containing  a  palm.  This  jar  he  had  promptly 
broken,  and  had  not  been  conciliatory  to  the  pro- 
prietor. At  five  o'clock  he  had  driven  his  own  car 
—  bought  at  Marseilles  —  to  Nice,  full  to  overflow- 
ing with  his  late  partners.  There  had  been  a  slight 
accident,  and  to  console  the  girls  for  their  fright 
the  Maharajah  had  divided  all  his  ready  money 
among  them.  Since  then  he  had  had  one  fight  with 
a  German,  whom  he  had  jostled,  and  who  had  called 
him  a  black  man.  Major  Norwood  had  been  obliged 
to  use  the  most  nerve-racking  exertions  to  keep  his 
princeling  out  of  a  French  prison.  Slightly  sub- 
dued, the  Maharajah  had  consented  to  call  at  the 
palace  at. Monaco,  to  walk  through  the  beautiful 
gardens  on  the  Rock  with  Hannaford,  and  to  visit 
the  Fish  Museum;  but  there  was  a  yearning  for  new 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     199 

excitements  in  his  dangerous  dark  eyes,  and  Nor- 
wood had  been  thankful  to  see  Carleton  the  airman 
standing  on  the  beach  by  his  hangar.  The  two 
Americans  were  introduced  to  the  Indian  royalty, 
and  Carleton,  not  too  eagerly,  had  just  begun  to 
explain  the  features  of  his  Flying  Fish,  when  the  big 
blue  car  brought  Miss  Grant  back. 

At  sight  of  Mary  in  a  newly  bought  motor-bonnet, 
the  Maharajah's  eyes  lit  up.  He  had  seen  her  the 
night  before  at  the  Casino,  and  had  started  the 
applause  after  her  first  sensational  win.  Now  he 
asked  to  be  introduced,  and  Major  Norwood's 
weary  heart  sank.  Judging  from  the  expression  of 
the  plump  olive  face,  this  was  going  to  be  another 
case  of  infatuation,  and  already  there  had  been  one 
on  the  ship,  and  one  at  Cannes,  both  of  which  had 
necessitated  the  most  delicate  diplomacy.  The 
Maharajah  was  passionately  fond  of  jewels,  and 
had  brought  with  him  from  home  some  of  the  finest 
in  his  collection,  which  he  intended  to  wear  in  Lon- 
don. But  on  board  ship  he  had  given  an  emerald 
worth  five  hundred  pounds  to  the  pretty  young  wife 
of  an  old  Indian  judge,  who  could  not  resist  accept- 
ing it;  and  at  Cannes  he  had  bestowed  a  diamond 
aigrette  on  a  second-rate  actress.  Major  Norwood 
had  tried  to  get  these  valuables  back,  in  vain;  and 
now  felt  symptoms  of  heart  failure  whenever  his 
charge  looked  at  a  beautiful  woman. 

The  Maharajah  had  an  extraordinarily  winning 
manner,  however,  almost  like  that  of  a  dignified 
child,  and  his  way  of  speaking  English  was  engaging. 


200     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Mary  had  never  seen  an  East  Indian  before,  and 
was  much  interested  to  meet  one.  She  gave  him  her 
prettiest  smiles  and  looks,  while  the  other  men 
stood  round  her,  each  secretly  annoyed  to  see  her 
treating  a  "black  fellow"  as  if  he  were  the  equal  of 
a  European. 

"I'm  hanged  if  I'll  stand  on  ceremony  with  the 
chap,  if  he  is  some  kind  of  potentate,"  Carleton 
grumbled;  and,  interrupting  the  conversation,  asked 
Mary  if  she  were  of  the  same  mind  about  being  his 
passenger  for  a  flight. 

"Of  course!"  she  answered.  But  Carleton  had 
not  yet  stepped  into  the  hangar  when  Prince  Vanno 
Delia  Robbia  passed  on  foot,  going  to  the  palace 
on  the  Rock. 

He  had  returned  to  his  hotel  after  lunching  with 
the  cure,  had  dressed  and,  as  he  was  told  there  might 
be   a   small   revolution   in   progress  at   Monaco  — 
something  worth    seeing  —  he   had   started   out   to 
walk. 

The  revolution  of  Monegasques  demanding  the 
vote  seemed  after  all  not  to  be  taking  place  that  day; 
but  if  Vanno  missed  the  miniature  warlike  demon- 
stration he  had  been  promised,  at  least  his  walk 
was  not  uneventful.  Noticing  a  group  round  Carle- 
ton's  hangar  on  the  beach,  he  drew  nearer,  and  to 
his  astonishment  saw  Mary  in  a  long  coat  of  mole- 
skin, and  a  little  red  motor-bonnet,  surrounded  by 
five  men,  one  of  them  the  somewhat  notorious  Ma- 
harajah of  Indorwana.  Vanno  retreated  hastily,  and 
went  on  toward  the  steps  which  led  up  to  the  Rock 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     201 

of  Monaco;  but  he  had  not  gone  far  when  a  combina- 
tion of  sounds  stopped  him :  the  whirr  of  a  propeller 
and  the  throb  of  an  engine.  Carleton  was  evi- 
dently on  the  point  of  trying  his  machine,  the 
curious  invention  which  could  be  used,  it  was  said,  on 
land  as  well  as  in  air  and  on  the  water. 

Vanno  looked  back,  and  saw  a  biplane  on  wheels, 
fitted  with  a  kind  of  float.  It  was  moving  out  of 
the  hangar,  down  an  inclined  plane  that  bridged  the 
beach  as  far  as  the  water's  edge.  In  the  aviator's 
seat  sat  Dick,  and  behind  him  the  red  motor-bonnet 
was  decorative  as  a  flower. 

She  was  going  with  Carleton!  Vanno  had  hardly 
time  to  realize  that  he  had  seen  her,  before  the  hydro- 
aeroplane ran,  rather  than  plunged,  into  the  water. 
It  ploughed  deeply  and  almost  painfully  for  the 
first  moment,  sending  up  a  great  spout  of  foam  like 
an  immense  plume  of  spun  glass;  but  as  Carleton 
increased  the  speed  daringly,  his  Flying  Fish  rose 
higher  on  the  little  waves,  the  float  barely  skimming 
the  surface  of  the  water.  The  aviator  tilted  the 
control,  as  if  to  watch  the  action,  and  suddenly,  to 
the  amazement  of  all  the  spectators,  what  had  been 
an  unusual  looking  double-decked  motor-boat  sprang 
out  of  the  harbour  into  the  air.  It  rose  gracefully 
and  gradually  to  a  height  of  perhaps  four  hundred 
feet,  flying  as  if  it  aimed  straight  for  the  far-distant 
pearl-cluster  of  Bordighera,  on  the  Italian  coast. 

Vanno  had  an  extraordinary  sensation,  as  if  his 
heart  stopped  beating,  and  as  if  at  the  same  time 
an  iron  band  across  his  chest  st.opped  the  expansion 


202     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

of  his  lungs.  It  was  such  a  sensation  as  a  man  might 
have  in  the  moment  of  death,  and  it  was  so  unlike 
anything  he  had  ever  felt  before  that,  for  a  few 
seconds  of  physical  agony,  he  asked  himself  dazedly 
what  was  the  matter.  Then,  suddenly,  he  knew  that 
he  was  afraid  —  afraid  for  the  girl.  And  he  hated 
Carleton  for  risking  her  life.  He  felt  a  savage 
longing  to  do  the  young  airman  some  bodily  injury 
as  a  punishment  for  what  he,  Vanno,  was  made  to 
suffer. 

The  relief  was  so  great  when  the  Flying  Fish 
dropped  slowly  down  and  settled  again  into  the  water 
that  Vanno  was  slightly  giddy  with  the  rush  of 
blood  through  his  veins.  He  watched  the  hydro- 
aeroplane turn  and  head  back  for  the  mouth  of 
Monaco  harbour;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
lived  through  years  in  a  few  minutes,  as  one  can 
have  a  lifetime's  experience  in  one  short  dream.  He 
sickened  as  he  thought  what  would  be  his  feelings 
now  if  the  machine  had  fallen  and  turned  over,  too 
far  off  for  any  hope  of  rescue  from  land.  If  those 
"eyes  like  stars"  had  been  closed  until  eternity,  with 
no  hope  that  he  could  ever  learn  the  secret  of  the  soul 
behind  them,  nothing  the  future  might  have  to  give 
could  make  up  for  the  loss.  It  was  only  when  the 
Flying  Fish  swam  safely  into  the  harbour  that 
Vanno  remembered  his  irritation  at  seeing  Mary  with 
all  those  men,  the  only  woman  among  them.  After 
what  he  had  gone  through  since  then,  this  annoyance 
seemed  a  ridiculously  small  thing;  but  no  sooner  was 
she  on  land  again,  received  with  acclamations  from 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     203 

her  new  friends  and  applause  by  the  crowd  which  had 
quickly  collected,  than  Vanno  felt  the  same  tingling 
anger. 

The  girl  was  making  herself  notorious!  At  this 
rate  she  would  be  talked  of  everywhere.  Strangers 
would  snapshot  her  as  she  passed.  Her  picture 
would  be  for  sale  on  one  of  those  Monte  Carlo  post- 
cards of  celebrities  which  were  newly  taken  every 
day;  she  would  be  in  the  local  English  illustrated 
newspaper.  He  walked  off  quickly,  with  his  head 
down,  so  as  to  lose  himself  in  the  crowd  and  not  be 
seen  by  Mary  or  her  companions. 

She  was  pale  as  a  drowned  girl  when  Carleton  and 
Hannaford  helped  her  out  of  the  oilskin  which  had 
protected  her  new  fur  cloak;  and  never,  perhaps,  had 
she  been  so  beautiful.  There  was  something  un- 
earthly about  her,  as  if  she  had  seen  a  vision  and 
the  blinding  light  of  it  still  shone  white  upon  her 
face.  As  he  touched  her,  Hannaford  felt  a  thrill  as 
of  new  life  go  through  him.  By  his  own  wild  reck- 
lessness he  had  spoilt  his  career  and  put  himself, 
so  he  believed,  beyond  the  pale  of  any  woman's  love. 
He  had  thought  that  he  had  trained  himself  not  to 
care;  but  in  that  instant,  while  Mary,  dazed  by  her 
vision,  almost  hung  in  his  arms  and  Carleton's,  he 
knew  that  he  was  as  other  men.  He  wondered  why 
last  night  she  had  meant  no  more  to  him  than  a 
pretty  new  face  at  Monte  Carlo,  a  rather  amusing 
problem  which  would  soon  lose  its  abstruse  charm. 
It  was  like  tearing  out  a  live  nerve  to  feel  that  she 
could  think  of  him  only  with  disgust  or  maybe 


204     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

horror.  Yet  he  knew  that,  now  he  had  seen  her  face 
with  the  wonderful  light  on  it,  he  would  have  to 
try  and  win  something  from  her,  if  only  pity.  The 
idea  came  to  him  that  she  and  he,  and  these  men  with 
them,  and  Madeleine  d'Ambre,  and  others  who 
would  gather  round  the  beautiful  and  lucky  player, 
were  figures  being  woven  into  a  web  of  tapestry 
together;  that  they  were  forced  to  group  themselves 
as  the  weaver  of  the  web  decreed.  He  saw  his  own 
figure  woven  into  an  obscure  and  shadowy  corner 
far  from  that  of  Mary,  and,  rebelling  against  the 
choice  of  the  weaver,  wished  to  tear  the  tapestry  in 
pieces.  But  the  next  moment  he  was  ready  to  smile 
at  himself  with  the  quiet,  cynical  smile  which  had 
become  familiar  to  all  those  who  knew  him.  "Noth- 
ing is  tragic  unless  you  think  so,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. Yet  he  could  not  put  out  of  his  mind  the  fancy 
of  the  web  with  figure  after  figure  being  woven  into 
it,  against  the  background  of  sea  and  mountain.  It 
was  not  unlike  the  idea  which  had  come  to  Peter 
in  a  half-waking  dream  the  night  after  Mary  went 
away.  And  at  the  convent  in  the  north  of  Scotland 
the  same  thought  still  came  back  to  Peter,  though 
no  news  had  yet  been  received  there  from  Monte 
Carlo. 

"Were  you  afraid?"  the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana 
asked  Mary,  as  the  colour  slowly  flowed  back  to 
her  face. 

"No,"  she  said,  dreamily,  "not  afraid.  But  it 
was  like  dying  and  going  to  another  world.  When 
we  were  rushing  through  the  water  with  the  loud 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     205 

noise  of  machinery  in  our  ears,  and  the  glassy  screen 
of  spray  over  our  heads,  I  lost  my  breath.  I 
couldn't  think  clearly;  but  I  supposed  that  was  all. 
I  couldn't  believe  we  should  go  up.  But  then  came 
the  spring,  and  we  were  in  the  air,  bounding  higher 
— -  it  was  like  something  imagined  after  death.  And 
the  rest  was  being  in  heaven,  till  we  began  to  drop. 
Then,  just  for  a  few  seconds,  it  felt  as  if  my  body 
were  falling  and  leaving  my  soul  poised  up  there  in 
the  sky.  I  shall  never  forget  —  never.  And  when 
the  time  does  come  to  die,  I  don't  believe  I  shall  .mind 
now,  for  I  know  it  will  be  like  that,  with  the  wonder 
of  it  after  the  shrinking  is  over. " 

Hannaford  looked  at  her  closely  as  she  spoke. 
He  was  continually  thinking  of  death  as  a  dark  "room, 
behind  a  shut  door  which  he  would  perhaps  choose  to 
open.  He  felt  that  he  would  like  to  talk  to  her  some 
day  about  what  she  really  expected  to  find  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door. 

Nothing  else  was  quite  real  to  him  in  the  scene, 
when  everybody  pressed  round  Carleton,  congrat- 
ulating him  on  his  machine  and  the  exploit  of  which 
the  airman  seemed  to  think  little.  It  was  not  real 
when  Schuyler  invited  Hannaford  and  his  two  com- 
panions to  crowd  into  the  big  car,  and  be  spun  up 
the  hill  to  Monte  Carlo.  He  remembered  the  illu- 
mined look  on  Mary's  face  (though  it  was  gone  now) 
and  the  faint  ray  of  hope  it  had  sent  into  that  secret 
place  where  his  real  self  lived  wearily. 


XII 

IP  MARY  had  died  and  waked  up  in  another 
world,  it  could  hardly  have  been  more  of  a  contrast 
to  her  old  existence  than  the  new  life  at  Monte 
Carlo  to  the  life  at  St.  Ursula's-of-the-Lake. 

And  the  Mary  at  Monte  Carlo  was  a  different 
person  from  the  Mary  at  the  Scotch  convent.  She 
had  a  new  set  of  thoughts  and  feelings  of  which  she 
would  not  have  believed  herself  capable  in  Scot- 
land. She  would  have  been  surprised  and  shocked 
at  them  in  another,  a  few  weeks  ago.  Now  she 
was  not  shocked  or  surprised  at  them  even  in  her- 
self. They  seemed  natural  and  familiar.  She  was 
at  home  with  them  all,  and  with  her  new  self,  not 
even  realizing  that  it  was  a  new  self.  And  she  grew 
more  beautiful,  like  a  flower  taken  from  a  dark 
northern  corner  of  the  garden  and  planted  in  a 
sheltered,  sunny  spot. 

She  no  longer  thought  of  turning  her  back  upon 
Monte  Carlo  in  a  few  days,  and  journeying  on  to 
Florence.  She  stayed,  without  making  definite 
plans;  but  she  did  not  write  to  the  convent.  She 
knew  that  Reverend  Mother  would  not  like  her 
to  be  here,  gambling,  and  it  would  be  too#  difficult 
to  explain.  There  was  no  use  in  trying,  and  she 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  having  to  read  a  re- 

206 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     207 

proachful  letter,  when  she  was  so  happy  and  every 
one  was  being  so  nice  to  her.  It  was  different  about 
her  Aunt  Sara.  She  knew,  if  she  did  not  arrive 
in  Florence,  Mrs.  Home-Davis's  friend  would  write 
and  say  that  she  had  never  appeared.  Then  perhaps 
her  aunt  would  follow  to  see  what  had  become  of 
her.  Rather  than  run  the  risk  of  this  dreadful 
thing  happening,  Mary  telegraphed  to  Cromwell 
Road;  "Have  changed  my  mind.  Staying  on 
the  Riviera.  Am  well  and  safe;  will  write  when 
decide  to  leave."  And  she  put  no  address.  After 
sending  off  this  message  she  felt  relieved  for  a  few 
days,  as  if  she  were  secure  from  danger;  but  some- 
times she  waked  in  the  night  to  worry  lest  Aunt 
Sara  knew  any  one  on  the  Riviera  who  might  be 
instructed  to  look  up  a  stray  niece.  Then  she  would 
comfort  herself  by  reflecting  that  Mrs.  Home-Davis 
was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  woman  to  know  people 
at  Monte  Carlo.  She  was  too  dull  and  uninteresting. 

And  just  now  most  things  seemed  dull  and  un- 
interesting to  Mary  which  were  not  connected  with 
gambling. 

Her  winnings  were  not  in  themselves  out  of  the 
common,  for  every  season  at  Monte  Carlo  there  are 
at  least  six  or  seven  players  who  win  great  sums, 
whose  gains  are  talked  about  and  watched  at  the 
tables,  and  who  go  away  with  from  ten  to  fifty 
thousand  pounds.  But  it  was  the  combination  of 
personality  with  great  and  persistent  good  luck 
which  made  Mary  Grant  remarkable,  and  her  be- 
haviour was  puzzling  and  piquantly  mysterious  to 


208     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

those  who  had  no  clue  to  her  past.  Everybody  talked 
about  her:  the  croupiers  who  spun  her  numbers  or 
put  on  her  stakes,  and  received  her  generous  tips: 
the  shopkeepers  with  whom  she  spent  the  money 
she  won,  buying  expensive  hats  and  furs,  dresses  and 
jewellery:  clerks  at  the  bank  where  she  deposited 
her  winnings:  people  of  all  sorts  who  frequented  the 
Casino,  and  even  those  who  were  there  seldom  but 
heard  what  was  going  on  through  acquaintances  at 
the  many  luncheon  parties  and  "At  Homes"  which 
make  up  the  round  of  life  at  Monte  Carlo.  And 
Mary  knew  that  she  was  stared  at  and  talked  about, 
and  liked  it  as  a  child  likes  to  be  looked  at  when  walk- 
ing out  with  a  splendid  new  doll.  She  had  no  idea 
that  any  one  could  say  unkind  things  of  her,  or  that 
there  was  anything  in  her  conduct  to  call  for  harsh 
comments.  It  was  so  delightful  to  be  winning  every 
day  at  roulette,  and  spending  the  easily  gained 
money  in  amusing  ways,  that  Mary  thought  every 
one  who  came  near  her  must  be  almost  as  much 
pleased  with  her  luck  as  she  was  —  all  but  the  one 
man  who  had  snubbed  her,  the  man  whose  name 
she  had  not  heard,  but  who,  she  had  been  told  by  her 
devoted  waiter,  was  a  Roman  prince.  He  dis- 
approved of  or  disliked  her,  she  did  not  know  which, 
or  why;  and  because  he  kept  the  table  near  hers  in 
the  restaurant  his  look,  which  was  sometimes  like 
a  vehement  reproach,  always  depressed  her,  bringing 
a  cold  sense  of  failure  where  all  might  have  been  joy. 
The  thought  of  this  stranger's  disapproval  was  the 
fly  in  her  amber;  and  the  idea  floated  through 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     209 

her  mind  sometimes  that  they  might  have  known 
each  other  in  a  forgotten  state  of  existence.  When 
their  eyes  met,  it  was  as  if  there  were  a  common 
memory  between  them,  something  that  had  hap- 
pened long  ago,  drawing  them  together. 

Days  passed,  and  Vanno's  project  which  concerned 
Mary  and  the  cur£  was  still  in  abeyance,  for  the 
priest  was  not  free  yet  to  leave  Roquebrune.  The 
man  whose  death  was  daily  expected  had  not 
died,  and  the  cure  spent  as  much  time  with  him  as 
could  be  spared  from  other  duties.  But  Vanno 
Delia  Robbia  was  not  the  only  one  who  sought 
the  services  of  a  friend  in  order  to  "help"  Mary. 

One  afternoon  at  the  end  of  the  Nice  aviation 
week  Dick  Carleton  ran  up  three  flights  of  marble 
stairs  in  a  huge  square  house  on  the  left  or  seaward 
side  of  the  Boulevard  d'ltalie  at  Monte  Carlo.  It 
was  a  building  given  up  to  flats,  and  the  corridors 
were  almost  depressingly  clean  and  cold  looking, 
with  their  white  floors  and  stairways  of  crude,  cheap 
marble,  and  their  white  walls  glittering  with  the 
washable  paint  called  "Ripolin. "  On  each  etage 
were  two  white  doors  with  openwork  panels  of 
iron  over  glass,  which  in  most  cases  showed  curtains 
on  the  other  side.  The  door  before  which  Carleton 
stopped  on  the  third  floor  had  a  semi-transparent 
rose-coloured  curtain;  and  just  above  the  bell  push 
was  neatly  tacked  a  visiting  card  with  the  name 
"Reverend  George  Winter"  engraved  upon  it. 

Carleton  had  never  met  the  new  incumbent  of 
St.  Cyprian's,  but  the  chaplain  had  lately  married 


210     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

an  American  girl,  Dick's  cousin.  This  was  the  first 
time  that  Carleton  had  found  a  chance  to  call,  al- 
though he  had  been  staying  with  Schuyler  for  over 
a  fortnight.  He  felt  rather  guilty  and  doubtful  of 
his  reception,  as  a  neat  little  Monegasque  maid 
told  him  that  Madame  was  chez  elle.  But  he  need 
not  have  been  anxious.  As  the  maid  announced 
his  name  with  a  pronunciation  all  her  own,  a  pretty 
girl  sprang  up  from  a  chintz-covered  window  seat, 
in  a  drawing-room  which  in  an  instant  took  Carleton 
across  the  sea  to  his  native  land. 

The  girl  had  been  sitting  on  one  foot,  and  as  she 
jumped  up  quickly  she  stumbled  a  little,  laughing. 

"Oh,  Dick,  you  nice  thing!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  But  my  foot's  asleep.  Good- 
ness, what  needles  and  pins!" 

She  stamped  about  on  the  polished  floor,  with  two 
small  feet  in  silk  stockings  and  high-heeled,  gold- 
buckled  slippers,  a  novel  tucked  under  her  arm, 
and  one  hand  clasping  her  cousin's. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "if  any  creature  could  be  less 
like  a  parson's  wife  than  you,  madam,  I'd  like  ta 
see  it." 

"I  know  I'm  the  exact  opposite  of  what  one  ought 
to  be,"  she  laughed,  "and  it  almost  makes  me  feel 
not  legally  married.  But  don't  —  don't,  please,  if 
you  love  me,  use  that  awful  word  'parson'  again. 
I  can't  stand  it.  Don't  you  think  it  sounds  just 
like  the  crackle  of  cold,  overdone  toast?" 

"Can't  say  I  ever  thought  about  it,"  said  Carle- 
ton. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     211 

"Well,  I  have,  constantly.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  to  say  'yes'  to 
St.  George,  on  account  of  that  word." 

"Is  St.  George  his  name?"  Dick  asked. 

"It's  my  name  for  him.  The  'saint'  part's  my 
private  property.  But  he  is  a  saint,  if  ever  there 
was  one:  and  a  good  thing  too,  as  he's  got  a  dragon 
on  the  hearth  to  tame;  but  a  little  inconvenient  some- 
times for  the  poor  dragon.  Oh,  Dick,  you've  no 
idea  how  good  and  pure-minded  and  absolutely 
Alpine  and  on  the  heights  he  is.  Often  I  expect 
to  pick  edelweiss  in  his  back  hair. " 

Carlton  gave  one  of  his  sudden,  boyish  laughs. 
"That  sounds  like  you.  How  did  you  come  to 
marry  such  a  chap?" 

"I  was  so  horribly  afraid  some  other  girl  would 
get  him,  if  I  left  him  lying  about.  But  do  let's  sit 
down.  My  foot's  wide  awake  again  now. " 

They  sat  on  the  cushioned  window  seat  and  smiled 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"How  brown  you  are!"  she  exclaimed. 

"How  pretty  you  are!"  he  retorted. 

And  it  was  true.  She  was  very  pretty,  a  girlish 
creature,  thin  and  eager  looking,  with  large  tobacco- 
brown  eyes  full  of  a  humorous,  observant  interest 
in  everything.  Her  skin  was  dark  and  smooth  as 
satin.  Even  her  long  throat  and  nervous  hands, 
and  the  slim,  lace-covered  arms,  were  of  the  same 
satin-textured  duskiness  as  the  heart-shaped  face, 
with  its  laughing  red  mouth.  Her  cheekbones  were 
rather  high  and  touched  with  colour,  as  if  a  geranium 


212     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

petal  had  been  rubbed  across  them,  just  under  the 
brown  shadows  beneath  the  eyes.  Her  chin  was 
small  and  pointed,  her  forehead  low  and  broad,  and 
this,  with  the  slight  prominence  of  the  cheekbones 
and  the  narrowing  of  the  chin,  gave  that  heartlike 
shape  to  her  face  which  added  piquancy  and  made 
it  singularly  endearing. 

She  was  very  tall  and  graceful,  with  pretty  ways 
of  using  her  hands,  and  looking  from  under  her 
lashes  with  her  head  on  one  side,  which  showed  that 
she  had  been  a  spoiled  and  petted  child. 

"Yes,  I'm  quite  pretty,"  she  agreed  gayly,  "and 
I  have  on  a  pretty  dress,  which  is  part  of  my  trous- 
seau, and  I  hope  it  will  last  a  long  time.  But  the 
thing  I  am  principally  interested  in  just  now  is  our 
flat.  Call  this  a  'living-room'  at  once,  or  I  shall 
feel  homesick  and  burst  into  tears.  The  question 
is,  do  you  think  it  is  pretty?" 

"Awfully  pretty;  looks  like  you  somehow,"  an- 
swered Dick,  gazing  around  appreciatively.  "Jolly 
chintz  with  roses  on  it,  and  your  rugs  are  ripping. 
Everything  goes  so  well  with  everything  else. " 

"It  ought  to.  I  have  taken  enough  trouble  over 
it  all,  introducing  wedding  presents  to  each  other 
and  trying  to  make  them  congenial.  I  have  no 
boudoir,  so  I  can't  boude.  But  St.  George  has  a 
study  with  books  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  lots  still  on 
the  floor,  because  we  are  not  settled  yet,  though 
we  arrived  —  strangers  in  a  strange  land  —  in  No- 
vember. I  expect  you'll  recognize  some  of  the 
things  here,  because  old  colonial  furniture  doesn't 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     213 

grow  on  blackberry  bushes  in  this  climate,  and  I 
brought  over  everything  Grandma  Carleton  left  me: 
that  desk,  and  cabinet  and  mirror,  and  those  three 
near-Chippendale  chairs.  Wouldn't  the  poor  dar- 
ling make  discords  on  her  golden  harp,  or  moult  im- 
portant feathers  out  of  her  wings,  if  she  could  see 
her  parlour  furniture  in  a  room  at  Monte  Carlo?" 

"Nice  way  for  a  par  —  I  mean  a  chaplain's  wife 
to  talk, "  said  Dick. 

"I've  been  so  prim  for  three  whole  months," 
Rose  Winter  excused  herself,  "except,  of  course, 
when  I'm  alone  with  St.  George." 

"Ever  since  you  were  married.  Poor  kid!  But 
don't  you  have  to  be  prim  with  him?" 

"Good  gracious,  no!  That  would  be  death.  I 
arranged  with  him  the  day  I  definitely  said  yes,  and 
again  on  our  wedding  eve,  so  as  to  have  no  misun- 
derstanding, that  I  might  keep  all  my  pet  slang,  and 
even  use  language  if  I  felt  it  really  necessary;  other- 
wise he  would  certainly  have  been  the  'Winter  of 
my  discontent."' 

"What  do  you  call  language?"  Dick  wanted  to 
know. 

"Oh,  well,  I  have  invented  some  and  submitted 
it  for  St.  George's  —  if  not  approval  —  tolerance. 
'Carnation'  for  instance,  and  'split  my  infinitives/ 
are  the  most  useful,  and  entirely  inoffensive,  when 
one's  excited.  Also  I  may  have  a  cigarette  with 
him  after  dinner,  if  I  like,  when  we're  alone.  Only 
I  haven't  wanted  it  yet,  for  we  have  so  much  to  say, 
it  won't  stay  lighted.  But  now  tell  me  about  your- 


214     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

self.  Of  course  we  knew  you'd  come.  It  was  in  a 
paper  here,  that  tells  us  all  the  news  about  every- 
body, in  English:  who's  who  (but  who  isn't  who 
nowadays  who  can  play  bridge?),  also  what  enter- 
tainments Who  gives  to  Whom. " 

"Sounds  complicated,"  said  Dick. 

"So  it  is,  complicated  with  luncheon  parties  and 
tea  parties,  and  knowing  whether  to  invite  So  and  So 
with  Thing-um-bob,  or  whether  they've  quarrelled 
over  bridge  or  something,  and  don't  speak.  It's 
most  intricate.  But  I've  kept  track  of  you  —  as 
much  as  one  can  keep  track  of  an  airman.  We 
knew  how  busy  you'd  be,  so  we  didn't  expect  you  to 
call.  And  St.  George  didn't  like  to  go  and  worry 
you  at  Stellamare,  as  he  isn't  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Schuyler. " 

"I  believe  Schuyler  sends  subscriptions  to  the 
church  at  Monte  Carlo  and  at  Mentone,  and  to  the 
Catholic  priest  at  Roquebrune  as  well,  and  thinks 
he's  quit  of  religious  duties,"  said  Carleton.  "Yet 
he's  an  awfully  good  fellow  —  gives  a  lot  away  in 
charities,  all  around  here.  He  is  great  chums  with 
some  of  the  peasants.  It's  quite  an  experience 
to  take  a  walk  with  him :  He  says  how-de-do  to  the 
quaintest  creatures.  But  he  can't  be  bothered  with 
society.  Vows  most  of  the  people  who  come  back 
here  every  winter  to  the  villas  and  hotels  are  like 
a  lot  of  goldfish  going  round  and  round  in  a  glass 
globe." 

"I  hope  we  shan't  get  like  that, "  said  Rose.  "At 
present,  I  am  quite  amusing  myself.  And  it  seems 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     215 

to  me  there  are  many  different  kinds  of  life  here. 
You  have  only  to  take  your  choice,  just  as  you  do 
in  other  places,  only  here  it's  curiously  concentrated 
and  concrete. " 

"Now,  I  ask  you,  is  it  the  right  spirit,  to  talk  of 
'amusing  yourself  in  taking  up  your  new  parochial 
duties?"  Carleton  teased  her. 

"Perhaps  one  does  things  better  if  it  amuses  one  to 
do  them,"  she  argued.  "And  really  I'm  a  success 
as  shepherd's  assistant,  or  sheep-dog-in-training. 
I  don't  go  barking  and  biting  at  the  poor  sheep's 
heels  (have  sheep  heels?),  for  the  sheep  here  are 
pampered  and  sensitive,  and  their  feelings  have  to 
be  considered,  or  they  jump  over  the  fence  and  go 
frisking  away.  Besides,  I  always  think  it  must  give 
dogs  such  headaches  to  bark  as  they  do!  Instead, 
I  make  myself  agreeable  and  do  pretty  parlour 
tricks,  which  would  be  far  beneath  St.  George's 
dignity;  and,  anyhow,  he  couldn't  do  tricks  to  save 
his  life.  His  place  is  on  the  mountain  tops,  so  I 
sit  in  the  valley  below,  and  give  the  weakest  sheep 
tea  and  smile  at  them  or  weep  with  them,  whichever 
they  like  better. " 

The  cousins  laughed,  both  looking  very  young 
and  happy,  and  pleased  with  themselves  and  each 
other.  They  were  almost  exactly  of  the  same  age, 
twenty-three,  and  as  children  had  played  together 
in  the  pleasant  old  Kentucky  town  which  had  given 
them  both  their  soft,  winning  drawl.  But  Dick's 
people  had  moved  North,  and  hers  had  stayed  in  the 
South,  until  three  years  ago,  when  Rose  and  her 


216     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

father  had  started  off  on  a  tour  of  Europe.  In 
England  she  met  George  Winter,  and  did  the  one 
thing  of  all  others  which  she  would  have  vowed 
never  to  do:  she  fell  in  love  with  a  clergyman. 
They  had  been  married  three  months  ago  in  Louis- 
ville, had  then  visited  his  parents  in  Devonshire; 
and  because  Winter  had  not  fully  recovered  tone 
since  an  attack  of  influenza,  he  had  accepted  a 
chaplaincy  in  the  south  of  France.  Rose  Fitzgerald 
and  Dick  Carleton,  children  of  sisters,  had  put  a 
marker  in  the  book  of  their  old  friendship,  and  were 
able  to  open  it  at  the  page  where  they  had  left 
off  years  ago.  She  was  not  in  the  least  hurt  be- 
cause he  had  let  more  than  a  fortnight  go  by  before 
calling,  for  she  knew  that  he  had  come  for  the 
aviation,  and  must  have  had  head  and  hands  full. 
She  was  not  aware  that  he  found  time  to  see  a  good 
deal  of  another  young  woman  who  had  no  claim  of 
old  friendship ;  but  even  if  she  had  known,  she  would 
have  understood  and  forgiven  almost  as  one  man 
understands  and  forgives  another.  For  quaintly 
feminine  as  she  was,  Rose  often  said,  and  felt,  that 
"before  a  woman  can  be  a  true  lady  she  must  be  a 
gentleman. "  And,  being  a  gentleman,  she  can  learn 
to  be  a  "good  fellow"  —  an  invaluable  accomplish- 
ment for  a  woman. 

"I  saw  you  fly,  you  know,"  she  said,  when  they 
had  finished  laughing.  "I  went  to  Nice  on  purpose 
—  that  is,  nearly  on  purpose.  I  combined  it  with 
buying  a  dress,  a  perfectly  sweet  Paris  dress,  which 
I  shall  try  to  wear  with  a  slight  English  accent,  so  as 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     217 

not  to  be  too  smart  for  a  well-regulated  sheep-dog. 
Every  one  declared  the  honours  of  the  aviation 
week  were  yours,  with  that  wonderful  Flying  Fish. 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  a  machine  made  by  man 
could  do  such  weird  things,  if  I  hadn't  heard  all 
about  the  Glenn  Curtiss  experiments  and  successes 
with  the  Triad  at  home.  I  was  proud  of  you. 
Except  that  man  who  tested  the  Delia  Robbia 
parachute,  you  were  quite  the  most  distinguished 
thing  in  the  air,  although  it  was  really  crowded  — 
all  sorts  of  quaint  creatures  giving  you  their  airwash. 
I  want  to  have  a  Skye  terrier  now,  and  name  him 
after  you.  St.  George  was  going  to  give  me  a 
dachshund,  but  they  do  look  so  bored  to  tears,  I 
think  it  would  depress  me  having  one  about.  And, 
besides,  I  draw  the  line  at  an  animal  which  can't 
know  whether  its  ancestors  were  lizards  or  dogs. " 

"Look  here,  Rosie,"  Dick  began  when  she  paused, 
with  an  introspective  look  which  told  her  that  he 
had  not  heard  a  word  she  said,  "there's  something  I 
want  you  to  do  for  me. " 

"It  won't  be  the  first  time,"  she  replied  pertly. 
"I  'spect  I'll  like  to  do  it.  But  if  it's  anything 
important,  better  begin  now,  for  some  of  my  own 
specially  collected  sheep  will  be  drifting  in  to  tea." 

"Sheep  at  tea!  A  new  subject  for  an  artist," 
mumbled  Carleton. 

"My  special  ones  are  so  shorn  it  would  be  scarcely 
decent  to  paint  them,  and  a  few  are  already  quite 
black.  But  they  all  like  tea  —  from  my  hands. 
It  knits  them  together  in  a  nice  soft  woolly  way. 


218     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

And  St.  George  will  probably  stroll  in  with  the  Al- 
pine glow  of  a  sermon-in-the-making  still  lighting  up 
his  eyes.  And  he  will  be  introduced  to  you  and  drop 
crumbs  on  my  lovely  Persian  rug,  and  ask  to  have 
the  gramophone  started.  He  loves  it.  Often  I 
think  our  friends  must  go  away  and  complain  of 
being  gramophoned  to  death  by  a  wild  clergyman. 
So  out  with  what  you  have  to  ask  »me,  my  dear 
man,  or  the  enemy  will  be  upon  us. " 

Carleton  got  up,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  stared  out  of  the  window  which  looked  down 
from  a  seemingly  great  height  over  the  turquoise 
sea.  He  could  see  a  train  from  Italy  tearing  along 
a  curve  of  the  green  and  golden  coast,  like  a  dark 
knight  charging  full  tilt  toward  the  foe,  a  white 
plume  swept  back  from  his  helmet.  Suddenly  the 
smooth  blue  surface  of  the  sea  was  broken  by  the 
rush  of  a  motor-boat  practising  for  a  forthcoming 
race,  a  mere  buzzing  feather  of  foam,  with  a  sound 
like  the  beating  of  an  excited  heart,  heard  after 
taking  some  drug  to  exaggerate  the  pulsation.  Yet 
Carleton  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  he  saw  or 
heard.  He  was  thinking  how  best  to  ask  Rose 
Winter  to  make  Miss  Grant's  acquaintance.  Several 
ways  occurred  to  him,  but  at  last  he  blurted  out 
something  quite  different  from  what  he  had 
planned. 

"There's  a  girl  —  a  lady  —  I  —  I  want  to  get 
your  opinion  about,"  he  stammered,  turning  red, 
because  he  knew  that  Rose  was  looking  at  him  with 
a  dangerously  innocent  expression  in  her  eyes. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     219 

"That  is,  I  should  like  to  know  how  you'd  classify 
her,"  he  finished. 

Rose  answered  lightly.  "There  are  just  three 
sorts  of  women,  Boy  —  counting  girls :  Perfect 
Dears,  Poor  Dears,  and  Persons.  Men  of  course 
are  still  easier  to  classify,  because  there  are  only 
two  kinds  of  them  —  nice  and  horrid.  But  under 
which  of  the  three  heads  would  you  yourself  put 
your  friend?  I  suppose  you  think  she's  a  Perfect 
Dear,  or  you  wouldn't  have  to  go  and  look  out  of 
the  window  while  you  lead  up  to  asking  if  I'll  make 
her  acquaintance." 

"No,"  said  Dick.  "I'm  afraid  she's  rather  more 
like  a  Poor  Dear.  That's  why  I  want  you  to  help 
her." 

"Oh,  you  want  me  to  help  her?  You're  quite 
sure  she  isn't  a  Person?" 

"I  should  think  not,  indeed!"  Dick  broke  out 
indignantly.  "She's  a  lady,  whatever  else  she  may 
be." 

"It  sounds  like  a  Deserving  Case.  Oh,  dear,  I 
do  hope  she  isn't  a  deserving  case?  I've  had  so 
many  thrust  under  my  nose  in  the  last  seven  weeks, 
and  I'm  sorry  to  say  the  undeserving  ones  are 
usually  more  interesting.  They're  all  undeserving 
ones  who're  coming  to  tea." 

"If  you'd  call  on  her,  you  could  see  for  yourself 
whether  you  thought  she  was  deserving  or  not. " 

"That's  the  way  I'm  to  help  her  —  by  calling? 
I  thought  perhaps  I  was  to  get  her  out  of  pawn,  or 
something,  by  buying  her  jewellery.  But  I  had  to 


220     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

tell  you,  if  that  was  what  you  wanted,  I  couldn't 
do  much,  for  all  my  pocket  money  is  exhausted, 
owing  to  so  many  people  coming  and  crying  tears 
as  large  as  eggs  all  over  the  living-room  —  quite 
strange  people  I've  never  seen  before.  You  can't 
conceive,  Dick,  the  cataracts  of  tears  that  have 
poured  over  this  rug  you  admire  so  much. " 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Carleton,  looking 
blank.  "Unless  you  want  to  switch  me  off  the 
subject  of  - 

"The  Poor  Dear?  No,  indeed.  But  you  couldn't 
be  expected  to  understand,  not  being  a  chaplain's 
wife  at  Monte  Carlo.  You  see,  they  hear  we're 
kind,  so  they  call,  and  then  begin  to  cry  and  offer 
me  pawn  tickets  as  security. " 

"Who  are  'they'?" 

"Oh,    poor    creatures  —  seldom    poor    dears  - 
who've  lost,  you  know.     As  I  suppose  your  one  has?  " 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Dick,  almost  sharply. 
"She's  won  tremendous  sums.  She  simply  can't 
lose  —  anything  except  her  head. " 

"Not  her  heart?  But  without  joking,  if  she  isn't 
a  'case/  why  do  you  want  me  to 

"Because  I  think  she  ought  to  have  some  one  to 
look  after  her,  some  one  who  knows  the  ropes. 
Honestly,  Rose,  I'd  be  awfully  obliged  if  you'd  call. " 

"I  will  of  course,"  Rose  answered.  "Have  I  got 
to  be  agreeable  to  any  mothers  or  aunts  she  may 
have  lurking  in  the  background?" 

"That's  the  trouble.     She  hasn't  got  a  soul." 

"Oh!     And  she  is  quite  young?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     221 

"Sometimes  she  looks  a  baby.  Sometimes  I 
think  she's  a  little  older. " 

"Then  she  probably  is.     Where's  she  staying?" 

"At  the  Hotel  de  Paris." 

"My  gracious!  Alone  at  a  big  Monte  Carlo  ho  tell 
A  young  girl!  No  wonder  you  glare  out  of  the 
window  while  you  ask  me  to  call  on  her,  and  stick 
your  hands  deep  in  your  pockets.  People  won't 
allow  me  for  an  instant  to  forget  I'm  a  clergyman's 
wife.  Et  iu  Brute!" 

"I  told  you  she  was  a  lady."  Dick  turned  rather 
white.  "She  doesn't  know  what  she's  doing.  I'm 
sure  she  doesn't.  She  —  even  Schuyler,  who  reads 
most  people  at  sight  like  ABC,  can't  make  her  out. 
She's  a  mystery. " 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Rose.  "I  was  half  in  fun. 
I  wouldn't  hurt  your  Flying-Fish  feelings  for  any- 
thing on  earth  or  in  air.  Is  she  pretty,  and  is  she 
American  —  or  what?" 

"She's  perfectly  beautiful,  and  she's  English,  I 
think." 

"Hasn't  she  told  you?" 

"No.  She  says  nothing  about  herself  —  I  mean 
about  herself  before  she  came  here." 

"What's  past  is  past.  Dark  or  fair?  —  not  her 
past,  but  her  complexion?" 

"Fair." 

"Not  one  of  those  pink  and  white  girls  picked  out 
in  blue  and  gold,  one  sees  about  so  much?" 

"As  different  from  them  as  moonlight  from  foot- 
lights. If  ever  you  went  into  the  Casino,  you 


222     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

couldn't  have  helped  having  her  pointed  out  to  you. 
She's  always  there,  and  she's  so  awfully  pretty  and 
dresses  so  —  so  richly,  and  wins  such  a  lot  that 
everybody  stares  and  talks.  She's  the  sensation 
of  the  place. " 

"But  I  never  do  go  into  the  Casino,  of  course  — 
that  is,  not  into  the  Rooms.  I  go  to  the  Thursday 
Classical  Concerts,  and  even  that  St.  George  shakes 
his  head  over,  as  it's  inside  the  fatal  door.  You  see 
he's  here  to  preach  against  gambling,  among  other 
things." 

"I  don't  suppose  the  gamblers  go  to  hear  his 
sermons?" 

"Oh,  yes,  they  do.  A  good  many  of  them  feel 
that  if  they  attend  church  and  put  money  in  the 
plate,  and  don't  play  on  Sunday,  the  rest's  all  right. 
They  can  keep  up  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  re- 
ligion that  way,  anyhow.  But  I'll  go  and  call  on 
your  mystery.  What's  her  name?" 

"Miss  Grant." 

Rose's  face  changed.  "Oh,  is  it  that  girl?  I  am 
glad!  Virtue  is  its  own  reward.  I  shall  love  to 
to  have  an  excuse  to  make  her  acquaintance." 

Dick,  who  had  faced  round  in  the  window  but 
was  still  standing,  came  and  sat  down  by  his  cousin. 

"What  do  you  know  about  her?"  he  asked. 

"I'll  tell  you.  It's  a  sort  of  story,"  she  answered 
thoughtfully;  "a  story  about  a  picture." 


xm 

"You  know  the  two  beggars  who  stand  by  the 
bridge,  just  over  the  Monegasque  frontier  as  you  go 
toward  Cabbe  Roquebrune  and  Mentone?"  Rose 
said,  her  eyes  no  longer  on  Carleton,  but  fixed  upon 
something  she  alone  could  see.  "Of  course  you 
know  they  keep  off  Monaco  territory  by  half  an 
inch  or  so,  because  begging  is  forbidden  in  the 
principality.  There's  an  old  white-haired  man  with 
rather  a  sinister  face.  I'm  not  sure  if  he's  deformed 
in  any  way,or  if  he  just  produces  on  the  mind  an  odd 
effect  of  some  obscure  deformity.  He's  one  of  the 
beggars;  and  the  other's  a  little  humpbacked  elf  of 
a  creature,  hardly  human  to  look  at,  with  his  big 
head  and  ragged  red  eyelids;  but  he's  always  smiling 
and  gay,  bowing  and  beckoning.  It's  his  metier  to 
be  merry,  just  as  it's  the  other's  pose  to  be  over- 
whelmed with  gloom." 

"I  know  them  both,"  said  Dick.  "I  can't  resist 
throwing  the  little  humpback  a  fifty-centime  piece 
now  and  then,  from  Jim's  automobile,  though  Jim 
scolds  me  for  it  in  a  superior  way  —  the  way  people 
have  who  take  a  firm  moral  stand  against  beggars. 
Jim's  on  the  firm  moral  stand  about  a  lot  of  things. 
He's  a  strong  man,  body  and  soul  and  mind,  but  I 
have  a  whole  brood  of  pet  weaknesses  running  about 

223 


224     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

that  I  hate  to  destroy.  The  other  day  when  I  was 
going  over  to  Nice  to  try  my  luck  with  the  Flying 
Fish  for  the  first  time,  I'm  ashamed  to  say  I  chucked 
that  little  red-eyed,  grinning  imp  five  francs  for 
luck  —  my  luck,  not  his?" 

"It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  get  out  and  rub  his 
hump,  as  a  lot  of  gamblers  do.  They  say  he's  quite 
a  rich  man,  owing  to  that  sort  of  silly  susperstition, 
but  I  can't  resist  him,  either.  And  I  feel  it  quite  a 
feather  in  my  cap  of  fascination  that  I've  made  the 
other  one  —  the  gloomy  beggar  —  smile,  though  I've 
never  given  him  a  sou.  He  has  quite  a  sense  of 
humour,  when  you  get  to  know  him  —  and  when 
he's  realized  that  he  can't  fool  you.  I  often  walk  to 
the  bridge  and  back,  just  for  a  chat  with  the  two 
beggars,  instead  of  everlastingly  promenading  up 
and  down  the  Terrace,  bowing  to  every  one  I  know, 
when  I  want  exercise.  I  thought  I  was  the  only 
person  original  enough  or  brave  enough  or  depraved 
enough  to  visit  the  beggars  socially;  but  the  other 
morning  I  was  on  my  way  to  pay  them  a  call, 
when  I  saw  that  somebody  else  was  ahead  of  me. 
It  was  quite  a  picture.  You  remember  the  blazing 
hot  day  we  had  last  week?  " 

"Wednesday.  The  best  we  had  at  Nice.  Not  a 
breath  of  wind.  The  day  Rongier  tried  the  Delia 
Robbia  parachute  the  second  time  and  made  his 
sensational  descent." 

"Well,  then  it  was  Wednesday.  It  was  like  June. 
The  beggars  were  having  a  lovely  time.  They'd 
taken  off  their  comfortable  winter  overcoats  with 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     225 

those  wing-like,  three-leaved  capes  which  they've 
been  wearing  ever  since  the  beginning  of  December, 
and  had  igone  back  to  summer  things :  nice,  shady, 
flapping  felt  hats  and  cool  clothes;  and  they  were 
having  one  of  their  pleasant  little  feasts  which  I 
used  quite  to  envy  them  when  we  first  came,  while 
the  weather  was  still  very  warm.  A  rough  table  in 
the  road,  close  to  the  stone  wall,  with  thick  chunks 
of  black  bread,  and  cheese  and  salad,  and  chesnuts 
instead  of  the  figs  they  had  in  autumn,  all  spread  out 
on  a  paper  tablecloth.  They  had  wine  of  the  coun- 
try, too,  with  slices  of  lemon  in  it;  and  when  I  came 
along  a  girl  was  there,  peeling  a  big  chestnut  for  her- 
self which  the  beggars  had  given  her.  She'd  taken 
off  her  gloves  and  laid  them  on  the  table,  with  a 
perfectly  gorgeous  gold  chain  bag  blazing  with 
jewels,  and  a  gold  vanity  box  to  keep  the  gloves 
down.  Just  imagine!  On  the  beggars  table!  And 
they  didn't  seem  to  grudge  her  such  splendid  pos- 
sessions one  tiny  bit.  They  were  grinning  at  her 
in  the  most  friendly  way,  as  if  they  loved  her  to 
have  pretty  things  and  be  rich  and  beautifully 
dressed.  You  could  see  by  their  air  that  they 
considered  themselves  chivalrous  knights  of  the 
road  being  gallant  to  a  lovely  lady.  That  gloomy 
old  wretch  was  grinning  at  least  an  inch  wider  for 
her  than  he  ever  did  for  me;  and  she  was  smiling, 
with  heaven  knows  how  many  dimples  flashing 
as  brilliantly  as  her  rings,  while  she  peeled  the 
chestnut." 

"Yes,  that  must  have  been  Miss  Grant!"  ex- 


226     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

claimed    Dick,    delightedly.     "I    never    saw    such 
dimples  as  she's  got." 

"Or  else  you've  forgotten  the  others.  Well,  I 
walked  slowly  so  as  not  to  break  up  the  picture.  She 
had  on  a  thin  veil,  so  I  thought  maybe  she  wouldn't 
be  as  pretty  or  young  without  it,  but  it  was  like  a 
pearly  mist  with  the  sun  shining  on  it,  and  it  gave 
her  that  kind  of  mysterious,  magic  beauty  of  things 
half  seen  which  stirs  up  all  the  romance  in  you." 

"Don't  I  know?"  Dick  muttered.  "But  she's 
always  got  that,  with  or  without  a  veil.  It's  a 
peculiar  quality  of  her  features  or  her  expression  — 
I  don't  know  which  —  that  can't  be  described 
exactly,  any  more  than  the  lights  on  the  clouds  can, 
that  I  see  sometimes  when  I've  got  up  a  few  hundred 
feet  high  in  the  sunrise.  I  wouldn't  have  said  all 
this  about  her  if  you  hadn't  begun.  But  anybody 
must  feel  it." 

"I  believe  the  beggars  did,  without  knowing 
it.  I  did  —  even  I,  a  woman.  I  felt  I  must  see  if 
she'd  be  as  pretty  when  she  lifted  her  veil  to  eat  the 
chestnut,  so  I  stopped  not  far  off,  on  the  Monaco 
end  of  the  bridge,  and  pretended  to  tie  up  my.  shoe- 
string. I  thought  I'd  never  seen  a  face  like  hers  - 
not  at  all  modern,  somehow.  Who  is  it  says  ro- 
mance is  the  quality  of  strangeness  in  beauty?  Hers 
has  that.  It  seemed  to  me  when  she  got  her  veil 
up  that  she  was  more  wonderful,  not  belonging  to 
any  century  in  particular,  but  to  all  time,  as  if 
thousands  of  lovely  ancestresses  had  given  her 
something  of  themselves  as  a  talisman." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     227 

"Rose,  what  a  darling  you  are!"  Dick  said,  seizing 
her  hands  and  squeezing  them  hard. 

"Oh,"  she  laughed,  wincing  a  little.  "You 
couldn't  do  that  to  her  with  all  her  rings.  I  was  just 
trying  to  draw  you!  Now  I've  found  out  all  I  want 
to  know.  You're  dreadfully,  frightfully  in  love 
with  Miss  Grant." 

"Am  I?"  he  asked.  "Perhaps.  I'm  not  sure. 
Only  I  see  that  there's  something  rare  about  her, 
and  she's  too  precious  to  be  living  as  she  does,  sur- 
rounded by  a  weird  gang  who  all  want  to  get  some- 
thing out  of  her,  or  else  to  give  her  something  she 
oughtn't  to  take.  Like  that  Indian  chap,  the 
Maharajah  of  Indorwana  —  confound  the  little 
beast!  He's  tried  to  make  her  take  a  diamond  star 
and  a  rope  of  pearls." 

"I  suppose  she  needn't,  unless  she  wants  to." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  she's  so  good-natured,  and 
somehow  childlike.  She  had  both  the  things  on  at 
the  Casino  last  night;  said  he  insisted  on  lending 
them  to  her,  for  luck,  and  she  didn't  like  refusing 
them,  as  he  almost  cried.  And  then  there's  that 
jeweller  man  from  Paris  —  has  a  shop  in  the  Galerie 
Charles  Trois.  She  strolled  into  his  place  to  buy 
the  gold  bag  you  saw  on  the  beggars'  table  and  he 
went  wild  about  her.  Cheek  of  him!  Sent  her  a 
bracelet  she  had  to  send  back.  How  dare  a  fellow 
like  that  have  the  impudence  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
girl  like  her?" 

"Cats  may  look  at  kings,  and  I  suppose  kings  em- 
brace queens,  don't  they?  You  needn't  be  so  mad. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

You  come  from  a  democratic  country,  and  Grandma 
Carleton's  father  was  a  grocer." 

"He  was  a  super-grocer.  And,  anyhow,  Ameri- 
cans are  different." 

"Some  of  them  fly  high  nowadays,  eh,  Mr.  Air- 
pirate?" 

Dick  laughed.  "You  haven't  told  me  yet  what 
happened  next  at  the  beggars'  feast,  and  how  you 
found  out  who  she  was." 

"Nothing  happened  to  any  one  except  me.  They 
went  on  feasting  and  gave  her  some  more  chestnuts. 
I  don't  know  what  she'd  given  them!  But  she'd 
probably  rubbed  the  lucky  hump  and  paid  for  it. 
I  was  dying  to  go  up  and  speak  to  my  pals,  and 
perhaps  be  introduced  to  the  girl,  but  I  hadn't  got 
quite  cheek  enough,  and  they  seemed  to  be  having 
such  a  good  time,  it  was  a  shame  to  interrupt.  The 
elf  was  talking,  with  explosive  sort  of  gestures  in  be- 
tween mouthfuls,  evidently  telling  something  very 
interesting.  And  you  know,  I  always  pretend  to 
myself  in  a  kind  of  fairy  story  that  he's  really  a  per- 
son of  immense,  mysterious  influence,  a  weird  power 
behind  the  throne,  starting  or  stopping  revolutions. 
Of  course  it's  nonsense  —  all  founded  on  my  seeing 
him  with  one  of  the  new  revolutionary  newspapers 
in  his  hand  —  the  ones  they  allow  nowadays  to  be 
sold  in  the  principality,  against  the  Prince,  and  the 
Casino,  and  everything.  But  if  I  were  to  write  a 
sensational  story  of  Monte  Carlo,  that  little  red- 
eyed  dwarf  at  the  bridge  should  be  the  hero.  And 
just  as  I  was  thinking  about  all  that,  and  tying 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     229 

my  second  shoe,  along  came  a  taxi  with  poor  Cap- 
tain Hannaford  in  it.  He'd  been  into  Italy  to  see 
Madame  Berenger,  the  actress,  at  her  villa,  which  he 
would  like  to  buy,  and  was  coming  back  to  lunch; 
so  he  made  the  chauffeur  pull  up  while  he  asked  if 
he  could  drive  me  home?  I  said  yes,  because  I  saw 
him  lift  his  hat  to  that  girl,  and  I  hoped  he  could  tell 
me  something  about  her." 

"What  did  he  tell  you?" 

"Not  so  very  much.  He  didn't  seem  to  want  to 
talk  about  her,  I  thought.  That  didn't  surprise 
me,  because  he  has  an  idea  that  women  feel  disgust 
for  him  and  can't  bear  to  look  at  him  if  they  can 
help  it  —  all  but  me,  for  I've  convinced  him  that  I'm 
really  his  friend.  He  only  said  that  her  name  was 
Miss  Grant,  and  that  she  was  very  lucky  at  the 
Casino.  And  in  about  three  minutes  we  were  at 
the  door  of  this  house." 

"Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  you're  interested  in  her, 
and  that  you're  willing  to  call." 

"Willing?     I'm  charmed.     I'll  go  to-morrow." 

"You  —  you  couldn't  go  to-day,  I  suppose?" 

"Silly  boy,  it's  too  late.  Here's  tea;  and  here's 
St.  George;  and  here  will  be  some  of  the  flock  pres- 
ently, who  generally  appear  on  the  stroke  of  half- 
past  four." 

In  another  moment  Carleton  was  shaking  the 
hand  of  a  slender,  pale  man  with  auburn  hair  worn 
rather  long,  a  sensitive  mouth,  delicate  nostrils, 
and  beautiful,  bright,  hazel  eyes  which  shone  with  a 
spiritual,  unworldly  enthusiasm.  He  looked  like  one 


230     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

who  would  cheerfully  have  been  a  martyr  to  his 
faith  had  he  lived  a  few  centuries  earlier.  And  Dick 
thought  his  cousin's  simile  of  the  high  Alps  not  too 
far  fetched,  after  all.  But  there  was  a  warm  light 
in  the  beautiful  eyes  as  they  turned  upon  Rose;  and 
something  in  the  man's  smile  hinted  that  he  did 
not  lack  a  sense  of  humour,  except  when  too  absent- 
minded  to  bring  it  into  play.  Dick  felt  happy  about 
Rose,  and  happier  about  Miss  Grant,  because  Rose 
would  go  and  see  her. 


XIV 

LIFE  was  not  running  on  oiled  wheels  at  the  Villa 
Bella  Vista. 

A  spirit  of  discontent,  a  feeling  that  they  had 
been  lured  to  the  house  under  false  pretences, 
grew  among  Lady  Dauntrey's  visitors  and  was 
expressed  stealthily,  a  word  here,  a  word  there, 
and  sullen  looks  behind  the  backs  of  host  and 
hostess.  Even  on  the  first  day  disappointment 
began  to  wriggle  from  guest  to  guest,  like  a  little 
cold,  sharp-nosed  snake,  leaving  its  clammy  trail 
wherever  it  passed. 

In  the  first  place  the  villa,  which  had  been  de- 
scribed glowingly  by  Lady  Dauntrey  to  the  Collises 
and  Dodo  Wardropp,  was  not  what  she  had  painted 
it.  Indeed,  as  Dodo  remarked  to  Miss  Collis,  it 
was  not  what  any  one  had  painted  it,  at  least  within 
the  memory  of  man.  Once  it  had  been  a  rich  gold 
colour,  but  many  seasons  of  neglect  had  tarnished 
the  gold  to  a  freckled  brown,  which  even  the  flower- 
ing creepers  that  should  have  cloaked  it  seemed  to 
dislike.  In  depression  they  had  shed  most  of  their 
leaves;  and  bare  serpent-branches,  which  might  be 
purple  with  wistaria  in  the  late  spring  long  after 
everybody  had  gone  to  the  north,  coiled  dismally 
over  the  fanlike  roof  of  dirty  glass  that  sheltered  a 

231 


232     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

blistered  front  door.  Inside,  a  faint  odour  of 
mouldiness  hung  in  the  air  of  the  rooms,  which  had 
been  shut  up  unoccupied  for  a  long  time.  The 
ugly  drab  curtains  in  the  drawing-room  smelled  of 
the  moth-powder  in  which  they  had  been  wrapped 
through  the  summer  heat.  The  imitation  lace 
drapery  underneath  them  had  been  torn  and  not 
mended.  Bits  of  thick  brown  paper  pasted  over 
the  windows  during  the  hot  months  still  stuck 
to  the  glass.  The  furniture  was  heavy,  not  old  but 
middle-aged,  lacking  the  charm  of  antiquity,  and 
in  the  worst  French  taste.  The  pictures  were  ba- 
nal; and  there  was  no  garden.  More  painful  than 
all,  the  house  was  in  the  Condamine;  and  Dodo, 
when  she  had  spent  a  few  days  at  "Monte"  on  her 
way  to  England  from  Australia,  had  been  told  that 
"nobody  who  was  anybody  lived  down  in  the  Con- 
damine: only  the  'cheap  people'  went  there."  And 
Dodo  did  not  consider  herself  a  cheap  person.  She 
was  paying  high  to  be  the  guest  of  a  "lady  of  title": 
she  wanted  her  money's  worth,  and  soon  began  to 
fear  that  there  was  doubt  of  getting  it. 

Servants  had  been  engaged  in  advance  for  Lady 
Dauntrey  by  the  agent  who  had  let  the  house. 
There  were  too  few;  and  it  needed  but  the  first 
night's  dinner  to  prove  that  the  cook  was  third 
rate,  though  Lady  Dauntrey  carefully  referred  to 
him  as  the  chef.  In  addition  to  this  person,  occa- 
sionally seen  flitting  about  in  a  dingy  white  cap, 
there  was  a  man  to  wait  at  table  and  open  the  door 
—  a  man,  Dodo  said,  with  the  face  of  a  sulky  cod- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     233 

fish;  and  a  hawk-nosed,  hollow-cheeked  woman  to 
"do  the  rooms"  and  act  as  maid  to  the  ladies,  none 
of  the  three  having  brought  a  maid  of  her  own. 
Their  hostess  had  said  she  could  not  put  up  her 
guests'  servants,  but  they  might  "count  upon  a 
first-rate  maid  in  the  house."  They  reminded  each 
other  of  this  promise,  the  day  after  their  arrival, 
and  grumbled.  Secundina  had  as  much  as  she 
could  do  to  keep  the  rooms  in  order;  and  the  only 
other  service  she  was  able  to  give  the  visitors  was  to 
recount  gruesome  stories  of  the  villa  while  she 
made  their  beds  or  took  a  top  layer  of  dust  off  their 
dressing-tables.  According  to  her,  the  Bella  Vista 
was  the  cheapest  furnished  house  to  let  in  the 
principality,  because  years  ago  a  murder  had  been 
committed  in  it.  A  woman  had  been  killed  for  the 
sake  of  her  jewels  by  the  tenants,  a  husband  and 
wife.  They  had  kept  her  body  in  a  trunk  for  days, 
and  had  attempted  to  get  out  of  France  with  it, 
but  had  been  arrested  on  their  way  to  Italy.  No- 
body who  was  superstitious  would  live  in  the  house, 
and  so  it  was  not  often  let.  Secundina  did  not 
know  where  the  murder  had  taken  place,  but  be- 
lieved it  was  in  the  dining-room,  and  that  the  trunk 
had  been  kept  in  the  cellar. 

It  was  Dodo  to  whom  the  tale  was  told,  and  she 
repeated  it  to  Mrs.  Collis  and  her  daughter,  the 
three  having  forgotten  their  slight  differences  in 
making  common,  secret  cause  against  the  Daun- 
treys,  or,  rather,  against  Lady  Dauntrey;  for  they 
were  inclined  to  like  and  be  sorry  for  her  husband, 


234     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

pitying  him  because  misfortune  or  weakness  had 
brought  him  to  the  pass  of  marrying  such  a  woman. 
"You  could  make  a  whole  macadamized  road  out 
of  her  heart,"  remarked  Mrs.  Collis. 

"It  would  serve  her  right  if  we  all  marched  out  of 
this  loathsome  den  in  a  body,"  said  Dodo,  emphat- 
ically, when  they  had  met  to  talk  things  over  in  the 
Collises'  room.  "She's  a  selfish  cat  and  thinks  of 
nobody  but  herself.  She  won't  even  let  the  men 
come  near  us  girls  if  she  can  help  it,  though  you  and 
I  both  know  perfectly  well,  Miss  Collis,  that  she 
hinted  about  the  most  wonderful  chances  of  great 
marriages,  nothing  lower  than  an  earl  at  meanest. 
Not  that  you  and  I  need  look  for  husbands.  But 
that  isn't  the  point;  for  anyhow,  she  has  no  business 
to  snap  them  out  of  our  mouths.  Now,  she's  jealous 
if  Dom  Ferdinand  or  the  Marquis  de  Casablanca  so 
much  as  looks  at  one  of  us.  And  she's  given  us  the 
worst  rooms,  so  she  can  take  in  other  poor  deluded 
creatures  and  get  more  money  out  of  them.  And 
there  isn't  enough  to  eat.  And  all  the  eggs  and  fish 
have  had  a  past.  And  Secundina  says  there  are 
black  beetles  as  large  as  chestnuts  in  the  kitchen. 
Still  - 

"Still,"  echoed  Miss  Collis,  "Monseigneur's  aw- 
fully interesting,  and  it's  fun  being  in  the  same  house 
with  him;  though  I'm  afraid  he's  selfish  too,  or  he 
wouldn't  calmly  keep  on  his  front  room,  when  he 
can't  help  knowing  we're  stuffed  into  back  ones 
without  any  view.  Of  course  he  is  a  royalty,  so 
perhaps  he  has  his  dignity  to  think  of.  But  I  know 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      235 

an  American  man  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing,  not 
even  if  he  were  a  President." 

"The  Marquis  is  nice,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Collis. 
"Lord  Dauntrey  tells  me  his  family's  one  of  the 
oldest  in  the  'Almanach  de  Gotha,'  whatever  that 
is.  And  Monseigneur  and  he  are  both  great  friends 
of  the  Dauntreys." 

"Only  of  Lord  Dauntrey,"  Dodo  corrected  her. 

"Well,  anyhow,  they're  likely  to  stay  a  while  in 
this  house,  for  whatever  there  is  of  the  best,  they  get. 
And  they're  playing  Lord  Dauntrey's  system  with 
him  at  the  Casino." 

"And  losing!" 

"Yes.  But  Dom  Ferdinand  seems  to  have  plenty 
of  money." 

"  Secundina  says  the  chef  told  her  it  was  well  known 
that  Monseigneur  hasn't  a  sou  of  his  own,  but  bor- 
rows of  people  who  believe  in  his  Cause.  Then  he 
comes  here  and  gambles  with  what  he  gets.  Ac- 
cording to  the  cook,  he's  a  well-known  figure  at 
Monte  Carlo,  and  sometimes  calls  out  when  he's 
playing  in  the  Rooms,  'There's  my  cousin's  head  on 
that  gold  piece.  It  ought  to  be  mine.' ' 

"His  is  a  mighty  good-looking  head,  anyhow,"  re- 
marked Miss  Collis  thoughtfully.  She  herself  was 
not  rich,  but  her  stepfather,  a  Chicago  merchant, 
was  enormously  wealthy,  and  she  was  wondering 
whether,  to  give  her  a  chance  of  possible  queen- 
hood, David  Collis  might  not  open  his  heart  and  his 
purse. 

Dodo  was  at  the  same  time  asking  herself  what 


236     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

would  be  the  smallest  sum  Dom  Ferdinand  would 
consider  worth  looking  at  with  a  wife.  Also  she  con- 
templated the  idea  of  impressing  him  with  the  be- 
lief that  she  was  a  great  heiress,  until  too  late  for 
him  to  change  his  mind  in  honour.  But  first  he 
must  fix  his  mind  upon  her.  She  would  have  been 
glad  to  create  distrust  of  him  in  the  hearts  of  Lottie 
Collis  and  her  mother;  and  while  they  remained  at 
the  Bella  Vista  in  Dom  Ferdinand's  society  Dodo 
decided  not  to  be  frightened  away  by  a  few  incon- 
veniences. Nor  did  she  wish  the  story  of  that  long- 
ago  murder  to  reach  his  ears.  Dom  Ferdinand  had 
publicly  announced  that  he  was  horribly  super- 
stitious, and  perhaps  he  would  not  stay  if  he  knew 
what  had  happened  in  the  dining-room.  He  would 
think  it  brought  bad  luck  to  live  in  such  a  house, 
even  if  he  could  bear  the  idea  of  a  ghost;  for  he  talked 
of  little  else  than  what  one  ought  to  do  in  order  to 
attract  luck. 

After  a  few  days  at  Monte  Carlo  Lord  Dauntrey 
began  to  find  acquaintances,  people  he  had  known 
long  ago  in  England  before  he  was  swallowed  up  in 
darkest  Africa,  or  those  he  had  met  at  hotels  since 
his  marriage  —  hotels  chosen  by  Lady  Dauntrey 
for  the  purpose  of  making  useful  friends.  He  had 
a  certain  wistful,  weary  charm  of  manner  that  was 
somehow  likable  and  aroused  sympathy,  especially 
in  women,  though  it  was  evident  that  he  made  no 
conscious  effort  to  please. 

There  was  a  vague,  floating  rumour  of  some  old, 
more  than  half -forgotten  scandal  about  him:  an 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  237 

accident,  giving  the  wrong  drug  when  he  was  study- 
ing medicine  as  a  very  young  man;  a  death;  a  sad 
story  hushed  up;  a  prudent  disappearance  from 
Europe,  urged  by  annoyed  aristocratic  relatives  who 
had  little  money  to  speed  his  departure,  but  gave 
what  they  could;  professional  failure  in  South 
Africa;  some  gambling-trouble  in  Johannesburg,  and 
a  vanishing  again  into  the  unknown.  Nevertheless 
his  title  was  an  old  one.  Men  of  his  race  had  loomed 
great  in  dim  historic  days,  and  though  during  the 
last  two  centuries  no  Dauntrey  had  done  anything 
notable  except  lose  money,  sell  land,  go  bankrupt, 
figure  in  divorce  cases  or  card  scandals,  and  marry 
actresses,  they  had  never  in  their  degeneration  lost 
that  charm  which,  in  Charles  II's  day,  had  won 
from  a  pretty  Duchess  the  nickname  of  the  "darling 
Dauntreys." 

The  present  viscount  was  the  last  and  perhaps 
the  least  of  his  race;  yet,  because  of  his  name  and 
the  lingering  charm  —  like  the  sad  perfume  of  pot- 
pourri clinging  to  a  broken  jar  —  he  would  have 
been  given  the  prodigal's  welcome  at  Monte  Carlo 
(that  agreeable  pound  for  lost  reputations)  but  for 
one  drawback.  The  stumbling  block  was  the  woman 
he  had  made  Lady  Dauntrey. 

In  the  permanent  English  colony  on  the  Riviera, 
with  its  jewelled  sprinkling  of  American  million- 
aires and  its  glittering  fringe  of  foreign  notables, 
there  are  a  few  charming  women  upon  whom  de- 
pends the  fate  of  newcomers.  These  great  ladies 
turned  down  their  thumbs  when  with  experienced 


238     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

eyes  they  looked  upon  Lord  Dauntrey's  wife, 
when  their  trained  ears  heard  her  voice,  with  its 
curiously  foreign,  slightly  rough  accent. 

Nobody  wanted  or  intended  to  turn  an  uncom- 
promising back  upon  her.  Lord  Dauntrey  and  she 
could  be  invited  to  big  entertainments  —  the  mid- 
season  "squashes"  which  wiped  off  boring  obligations, 
paid  compliments  quickly  and  easily,  and  pleased 
the  outer  circles  of  acquaintanceship.  But  for  in- 
timate things,  little  luncheons  and  little  dinners  to 
the  elect,  she  would  not  "do";  which  was  a  pity  — 
because  as  a  bachelor  Lord  Dauntrey  might  have 
been  furbished  up  and  made  to  do  quite  well.  As 
things  stood,  the  best  that  could  happen  to  the 
pair,  if  they  were  found  to  play  bridge  well,  was  to 
be  asked  to  the  bridge  parties  of  the  great;  while 
for  other  entertainments  they  would  have  to  depend 
on  outsiders  to  whom  a  title  was  a  title,  no  matter 
how  tarnished  or  how  tattered. 

As  Rose  Winter  had  said  to  Carleton,  "Who 
isn't  Who,  if  they  can  play  bridge?"  But  it  had 
been  important  for  Lady  Dauntrey's  plans  not  to 
be  received  on  sufferance.  She  had  meant  and  ex- 
pected to  be  some  one  in  particular.  In  the  South 
African  past  of  which'people  here  knew  nothing,  but 
began  to  gossip  much,  it  had  been  her  dream  to 
marry  a  man  who  could  lead  her  at  once  to  the  draw- 
ing-room floor  of  society,  and  she  saw  no  reason  in 
herself  why  she  should  not  be  a  shining  light  there. 
She  knew  that  she  was  handsome,  and  fascinating 
to  men,  and  while  using  her  gifts  as  best  she  could, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      239 

always  she  had  burned  with  an  almost  fierce  desire 
to  make  more  of  them,  to  be  a  beauty  and  a  social 
star,  like  those  women  of  whom  she  read  in  the 
*'  society  columns"  of  month-old  London  papers, 
women  not  half  as  attractive  as  she.  She  had  felt 
in  herself  the  qualities  necessary  for  success  in  a 
different  world  from  any  she  had  known;  and  be- 
cause, during  a  period  when  she  was  a  touring 
actress  she  had  played  the  parts  of  great  ladies,  she 
had  told  herself  confidently  that  she  would  know 
without  any  other  teaching  how  great  ladies  should 
talk,  behave,  and  dress. 

"Who  was  she?"  people  asked  each  other,  of 
course,  when  she  and  her  husband  appeared  at 
Monte  Carlo  in  the  beginning  of  the  season,  and 
Lord  Dauntrey  began  quietly,  unobtrusively,  to  re- 
mind old  acquaintances  of  his  own  or  of  his  dead 
uncle's  (the  last  viscount's)  existence.  Nobody 
could  answer  that  question;  but  "WJiat  was  she?" 
seemed  simpler  of  solution  as  a  puzzle,  at  least  in  a 
negative  way;  for  certainly  she  was  not  a  lady.  And 
one  or  two  Americans  who  had  lived  in  the  South 
of  their  own  country  insisted  that  she  had  a  "touch 
of  the  tar  brush."  She  confessed  to  having  passed 
some  years  in  South  Africa,  "in  the  country  a  good 
deal  of  the  time."  And  something  was  said  by  gos- 
sips who  did  not  know  much,  about  a  first  husband 
who  had  been  "a  doctor  in  some  God-forsaken  hole." 
Perhaps  that  was  true,  people  told  each  other;  and  if 
so,  it  explained  how  she  and  Dauntrey  had  met;  be- 
cause it  was  generally  understood  that  he  had  been, 


240     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULFS 

or  tried  to  be,  a  doctor  in  South  Africa.  Thus  the 
story  went  round  that  he  had  been  her  late  hus- 
band's assistant,  and  had  married  her  when  she  was 
free. 

Even  the  first  ten  days  in  Monte  Carlo  showed 
Lady  Dauntrey  that  her  brilliant  scheme  for  the 
season  was  doomed  to  failure :  and  that  heart  of  hers, 
out  of  which  Mrs.  Collis  said  a  whole  macadamized 
road  might  be  made,  grew  sick  with  disappointment 
and  anxiety 

She  had  married  Dauntrey  —  almost  forced  him 
to  marry  her,  in  fact,  by  fanning  the  dying  embers  of 
his  chivalry  —  because  she  expected  through  him 
to  realize  her  ambitions.  Under  this  motive  lay 
another  —  an  almost  savage  love,  not  unlike  the 
love  for  an  Apache  of  the  female  of  his  kind.  Only, 
Dauntrey  was  not  an  Apache  at  heart,  and  Eve 
Ruthven  was.  Eve,  of  course,  was  not  her  real 
name.  She  had  been  Emma  Cotton  until  she  went 
on  the  stage  twenty  years  ago,  at  sixteen;  but  she 
was  the  type  of  woman  who  admires  and  takes  the 
name  of  Eve.  And  Mrs.  Ruthven  she  had  been  as 
wife  and  widow  after  the  theatrical  career  had  been 
abandoned  in  disaster.  Something  in  her  nature 
would  have  yearned  toward  Dauntrey  if  he  had  had 
nothing  to  recommend  him  to  her  ambition;  but  she 
would  have  resisted  her  own  inclination  for  a  penni- 
less man  without  a  title. 

What  money  there  was  between  them  had  been 
saved  in  one  way  or  other  by  her;  but,  as  Dodo 
Wardropp  surmised,  there  was  far  less  than  Mrs. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     241 

Ruthven  had  persuaded  Lord  Dauntrey  to  believe. 
At  first  she  had  worked  upon  the  overmastering 
passion  of  his  nature,  where  most  other  loves  and 
desires  were  burnt  out  or  broken  down:  the  passion 
for  gambling.  He  had  told  her  about  the  roulette 
system  which  he  had  invented,  a  wonderful  system, 
in  practising  which  with  a  roulette  watch  or  a  toy 
wheel,  he  had  managed  to  get  through  dreadful 
years  of  banishment,  without  dying  of  boredom. 
She  had  encouraged  him  to  hope  that  with  her 
money  they  would  have  enough  capital  to  play  the 
system  successfully  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  win  fortune 
in  a  way  which  for  long  had  been  the  dream  of  his 
life,  as  hers  had  been  to  become  a  personage  in 
"real  society." 

With  five  thousand  pounds,  Lord  Dauntrey  was 
confident  that  he  could  win  through  the  worst  pos- 
sible slide  the  system  was  likely  to  experience,  play- 
ing with  louis  stakes.  Mrs.  Ruthven  mentioned 
that  she  had  eight  thousand  pounds.  After  he  had 
asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  she  had  said  yes,  and 
told  everybody  she  knew,  about  the  engagement  — 
including  newspaper  men  in  Johannesburg  —  Daun- 
trey discovered  that  the  figure  she  had  mentioned 
was  in  hundreds,  not  thousands.  But  she  sobbed 
out  a  passionate  confession,  saying  she  had  lied  be- 
cause she  loved  him :  and  they  could  still  go  to  Monte 
Carlo,  with  a  plan  she  had,  and  try  the  system  with 
five-franc  pieces  instead  of  louis. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  any  one  had  loved  Daun- 
trey.    He  was  lonely,  and  hated  to  hurt  a  woman. 


Besides,  five-franc  pieces  were  better  than  nothing, 
and  he  was  sick  to  death  of  South  Africa. 

They  had  got  through  the  spring  and  summer  in 
England  partly  on  their  wits,  partly  through  im- 
pressing landlords  and  travelling  nonenities  with 
their  social  importance,  and  partly  through  their 
successes  at  bridge.  For  they  both  played  bridge 
extremely  well,  too  well,  it  had  once  or  twice  been 
said  of  Lord  Dauntrey  in  South  Africa. 

Lady  Dauntrey's  "plan"  was  to  get  together  as 
many  paying  guests  as  possible,  enlist  their  interest 
in  the  "system,"  or,  if  they  could  not  be  persuaded 
into  that,  to  earn  for  herself  something  even  better 
than  board-money,  by  introducing  rich  girls  to 
men  of  title.  She  had  not  doubted  her  opportunities 
for  thrusting  her  female  pigeons  into  society,  or 
of  getting  hold  of  young  foreign  aristocrats,  perhaps 
even  Englishmen,  who  were  "out  for  dollars,"  as  her 
girls  would  be  out  for  dukes  —  or  the  next  best  thing 
after  dukes.  And  she  had  begun  well. 

The  house  she  had  secured  was  cheap;  and  she 
brought  with  her  from  England  three  women  who 
would  alone  pay  more  than  enough  to  keep  it  up. 
Her  husband's  friend,  Dom  Ferdinand  de  Trevanna, 
and  his  faithful  follower,  the  Marquis  de  Casablanca, 
had  fulfilled  a  promise  to  meet  them  at  Monte  Carlo 
on  the  day  after  their  arrival  at  the  villa.  Several 
other  guests  were  expected  —  the  young  widow  of  a 
rich  stockbroker;  two  Jewish  heiresses  who  still 
called  themselves  girls;  an  elderly,  impecunious 
English  earl;  an  Austrian  count  who  had  failed  to 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     243 

find  a  wife  in  England,  and  a  naval  lieutenant  who 
was  heir  to  an  impoverished  baronetcy:  a  set  of 
people  sure  to  be  congenial,  because  each  wanted 
something  which  another  could  give.  Everything 
ought  to  have  been  satisfactory,  even  from  Daun- 
trey's  point  of  view,  for  he  had  interested  all  the 
men  in  his  system,  and  what  money  they  could 
spare  would  be  put  into  it;  he  would  play  for  the 
"syndicate";  or  if  the  men  preferred  gambling  them- 
selves, they  must  give  him  something  for  the  system 
which  he  was  prepared  to  teach. 

When  she  arrived  at  Monte  Carlo  on  a  beautiful 
day  of  sunshine,  which  seemed  a  good  omen,  Eve 
Dauntrey  believed  that  at  last  luck  had  turned  for 
her.  She  thought  that  the  thing  she  had  longed 
for,  year  after  year,  was  coming  at  last;  and  she 
was  proud  of  the  plan  she  had  made,  proud  of  the 
way  in  which  she  had  worked  it  out.  But  the 
moment  she  entered  the  villa  in  the  Condamine, 
her  spirits  were  damped  almost  as  if,  by  some  mon- 
key-trick, a  jug  of  cold  water  had  been  upset  on 
her  head  as  the  door  opened  to  let  her  in.  She 
felt  the  same  depression  fall  upon  the  minds  of  the 
others,  as  shadows  can  be  seen  to  move  and  grow 
long  at  sunset.  She  knew  that  the  Collises  and 
Dodo  Wardropp  were  going  to  be  dissatisfied,  and 
that  they  would  talk  against  the  house  and  their 
accommodation  in  it,  behind  her  back,  saying  that 
she  had  deliberately  deceived  them. 

Still,  there  were  Dom  Ferdinand  and  Casablanca. 
There  was  no  deceit  where  they  were  concerned. 


244     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

They  wanted  to  meet  girls  with  money,  and  Dodo 
and  Lottie  wanted  to  meet  men  of  title.  There 
ought  to  be  no  danger  that  any  members  of  this 
party  would  leave  solely  because  the  cooking  was 
poor  and  the  rooms  badly  furnished;  and  it  was 
really  Eve's  wish  to  throw  the  four  together,  so  that 
they  need  not  miss  certain  things  which  lacked  in 
her  promised  programme.  But  she  had  counted 
without  herself.  It  was  not  in  her  to  surrender  any 
men  who  might  be  near,  to  other  women,  even  when 
surrendering  them  would  be  to  her  advantage.  In 
her  heart  she  despised  Lottie  Collis  and  Dodo  Ward- 
ropp,  and  she  had  to  try  her  own  weapons  against 
theirs.  She  could  not  help  this,  and  did  it  almost 
unconsciously. 

Throughout  her  whole  life  since  she  was  fifteen 
she  had  lived  by  and  sometimes  fallen  by  the  fas- 
cination she  had  for  men;  not  all  men,  but  many, 
and  most  of  those  whose  type  appealed  to  her.  She 
could  never  resist  testing  its  power,  even  now  when 
she  loved  the  man  she  had  married,  and  would  ruth- 
lessly have  sacrificed  any  other  for  him.  She  tried 
it  upon  Dom  Ferdinand  and  the  Marquis  de  Casa- 
blanca. They  struggled,  because  they  wished  to 
make  an  impression  upon  the  two  girls  in  the 
house;  but  they  could  not  hold  out  against  the 
allurement  of  the  primitive  woman  in  Lady  Daun- 
trey,  and  though  they  paid  the  girls  compliments 
and  went  about  with  them  docilely,  they  looked  at 
Eve.  And  the  girls  saw  not  only  the  looks,  but  the 
weapons  which  Lady  Dauntrey  used  to  win  the  men 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     245 

for  herself,  when  she  ought  to  have  been  furthering 
her  guests'  interests.  They  began  to  hate  her, 
and  soon  realized  that  she  would  not  be  able  to 
introduce  them  to  the  "best  set"  at  Monte  Carlo, 
as  she  had  promised.  Still  they  stayed  on,  hoping 
a  little,  for  other  people  were  expected  to  join  the 
house  party,  and  there  was  a  chance  yet  of  something 
better.  Besides,  they  found  a  small  and  bitter 
pleasure  in  seeing  the  disappointment  and  humilia- 
tion of  the  woman  who  had  been  so  sure  of  herself, 
and  had,  by  the  force  of  her  own  strong  personality, 
made  them  sure  of  her.  Dodo  and  the  Collises, 
travelling  out  of  their  own  country  for  the  first  time, 
had  not  —  as  they  acknowledged  to  each  other  now 
"known  the  difference  in  foreigners."  It  was 
only  by  the  light  in  other  women's  eyes  —  women 
of  good  birth  and  breeding  —  that  they  began  to 
see  Lady  Dauntrey  as  she  was,  common,  bold, 
not  a  lady,  one  whom  ladies  would  not  care  to 
receive. 

Dodo  also  was  common,  and  knew  herself  to  be 
"nobody"  at  home,  but  she  had  thought  that  she 
might  "go  down  in  England,"  if  she  could  have  the 
right  introductions.  Now  she  saw  that  her  money 
was  being  wasted  at  the  start;  for  though  the 
Dauntreys  attracted  a  certain  set  round  them,  in- 
stinctively she,  as  well  as  the  Collises,  felt  that  it 
was  not  the  right  set. 

Even  when,  after  ten  days  of  Monte  Carlo,  the 
Villa  Bella  Vista  was  full  of  the  Dauntreys'  paying 
guests,  a  cold  sense  of  insecurity  and  trouble  to 


246     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

come,  which  would  be  worse  by  and  by  than  the 
bitter  disappointment  of  the  present,  lay  heavy 
upon  Eve's  heart.  Her  menage  was  uncomfortable, 
and  people  were  threatening  to  go.  Every  day 
nearly  she  had  a  "scene"  with  some  one,  a  guest  or  a 
servant,  or  both.  Mrs.  Collis  had  burst  into  tears 
at  a  luncheon  in  honour  of  a  rich  Jewish  money- 
lender, because  she  thought  herself  insulted.  She 
had  been  given  a  kitchen  dish-towel  instead  of  a 
napkin,  and  had  spoiled  the  party  by  complaining 
of  it.  The  stupid  creature!  As  if  some  one 
were  not  obliged  to  put  up  with  the  thing,  since  there 
were  not  enough  napkins  to  go  round  for  so  many! 
Lady  Dauntrey  had  explained  that  she  could  not 
take  the  dish-towel  herself,  as  Monseigneur  was 
on  her  right  hand,  Mr.  Holbein  on  her  left.  But 
even  the  fact  that  Lord  Dauntrey  contented  himself 
with  a  dust  cloth  did  not  appease  Mrs.  Collis,  who 
said  it  was  only  the  last  feather  on  the  top  of  other 
grievances.  And  Dodo  was  furious  because,  when- 
xever  Lady  Dauntrey  entertained,  the  servants  were 
so  busy  that  she  had  to  make  her  own  bed,  or  see  it 
lie  tumbled  just  as  she  had  got  out  of  it,  until  evening. 
Eve's  violent  temper  had  got  the  better  of  her  then, 
and  she  had  flung  her  true  opinion  of  Miss  Wardropp 
into  the  pretty  painted  face.  "  Persons  who've  never 
had  anything  decent  at  home  always  complain  more 
than  any  one  else  in  other  people's  houses,"  she 
had  said;  and  Dodo  had  retorted  with  compliments 
of  the  same  kind. 

Miss  Wardropp  often   wondered  if   Lady  Daun- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     247 

trey  knew  the  history  of  the  Villa  Bella  Vista.  She 
did  know,  the  agent  having  felt  obliged  to  confess, 
lest  later  she  might  hear  the  story  and  try  to  get 
out  of  her  bargain  on  the  strength  of  it.  But  he 
had  eloquently  explained  that  if  there  were  no  draw- 
back the  house  —  being  a  large  one  with  many 
rooms  —  would  have  commanded  twice  the  price 
at  which  he  could  offer  it  to  her  ladyship.  He  had 
added  that  the  murder,  committed  long  ago,  had 
been  almost  forgotten  by  every  one  except  old  in- 
habitants; and  as  the  villa  had  been  occupied  by 
several  tenants  since  its  evil  days,  and  thoroughly 
redecorated,  it  need  no  longer  have  disagreeable 
associations  even  for  the  most  sensitive  minds. 

Lady  Dauntrey's  mind  was  not  sensitive.  She 
had  hoped  that  her  guests  would  not  hear  the  tale, 
and  she  had  thought  that  she  would  not  care  herself. 
Perhaps  she  would  not  have  cared,  if  everything  had 
gone  as  well  with  her  and  her  husband  as  they  had 
expected,  for  then  she  would  have  been  cheerful, 
and  could  have  laughed  at  superstition.  But  when 
the  people  she  wanted  to  know  would  not  know  her, 
when  Dauntrey's  system  did  not  work  as  it  had 
worked  on  the  toy  roulette,  when  the  servants  stole, 
or  left  without  notice,  and  when  the  guests  quar- 
relled and  complained,  she  began  to  feel  that  there 
was  a  curse  upon  the  house.  She  fancied  that,  if 
she  had  not  taken  it,  but  had  run  larger  risks  and 
chosen  a  more  expensive  villa,  perhaps  things  would 
have  been  better. 

In  spite  of  herself  she  thought  a  great  deal  about 


248     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  man  and  the  woman  who  had  done  the  murder. 
From  the  agent  she  had  heard  no  details,  and  though 
the  case  had  made  a  great  sensation  at  the  time  it 
happened,  years  ago,  she  had  been  far  away  in 
South  Africa,  and  had  not  given  much  attention  to  it. 
Some  sly  hints  of  Secundina's,  however,  had  shown 
her  that  the  servants  knew,  and  she  had  not  been 
able  to  resist  asking  questions.  Afterward  she  could 
not  put  out  of  her  head  Secundina's  description  of 
the  dreadful  couple. 

The  man  had  been  of  good  birth,  the  woman 
bourgeoise,  but  clever.  They  had  gambled  and 
made  money,  eventually  losing  it  again,  and  all  their 
capital  besides.  Then  they  had  grown  desperate, 
at  their  wits'  end,  and  they  had  killed  a  woman  who 
trusted  and  thought  of  them  as  her  friends.  At 
night,  when  Eve  lay  awake  worrying,  as  she  often 
did  —  especially  when  Dauntrey  had  been  losing  - 
she  seemed  to  see  the  two  haggard  faces  staring  at 
her  hopelessly,  growing  and  taking  shape  in  the 
darkness.  Worse  than  all,  she  seemed  to  understand 
something  in  their  eyes  which  they  wished  to  make 
her  understand.  She  wondered  if,  by  any  chance, 
the  room  where  she  and  her  husband  slept  had  been 
theirs,  and  if  between  these  walls  they  had  talked 
over  the  murder  before  committing  it.  She  im- 
agined how  they  had  felt,  how  they  had  hated  and 
rebelled  against  the  idea  at  first,  then  accepted  it 
as  the  one  thing  left  to  do.  The  story  was  that  the 
woman  had  persuaded  the  man  to  consent,  though 
he  had  refused  at  first. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     249 

One  day,  after  a  worse  quarrel  than  any  that  had 
gone  before,  Mrs.  Collis  left  with  Lottie,  packing 
up  in  a  hurry,  and  driving  off  to  a  hotel.  This  gave 
Lady  Dauntrey  an  empty  room;  and  already  Dodo 
had  twice  vowed  that  she  too  would  go.  Now,  in 
all  probability  the  Collises  would  persuade  her  to 
join  them;  and  perhaps  an  epidemic  of  departure 
would  sweep  through  the  villa.  Lord  Dauntrey 
had  suffered  a  serious  setback;  and  all  the  money 
received  from  the  guests  was  needed  to  retrieve 
this  accident.  Dom  Ferdinand  had  lost  so  much 
that  he  could  not  pay  at  all  until  a  further  remit- 
tance came  to  him;  and  as  odd  stories  of  the  house- 
hold had  leaked  out  through  dissatisfied  servants, 
several  tradesmen  had  begun  to  make  themselves 
objectionable.  Strangers  are  not  trusted  in  the 
shops  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  the  butcher  threatened 
to  send  no  more  meat  to  the  Bella  Vista  unless  he 
were  paid  what  was  owing. 

This  happened  when  the  Dauntreys  had  been  in 
their  villa  three  weeks;  and  that  same  afternoon  at 
the  Casino  Lady  Dauntrey  spoke  to  Mary  Grant. 
It  was  then  two  days  before  Christmas. 

Often  she  had  looked  at  Mary  and  felt  inclined 
to  speak,  but  always  something  had  happened  to 
prevent,  or  else  Dodo  or  the  Collises  had  been  near, 
and  she  had  known  that  they  would  say  to  each 
other,  "Look  at  the  woman  making  up  to  that 
girl  now  because  she's  winning  such  a  lot.  Any 
one  who's  got  money  is  good  enough  for  her."  But 
this  time  the  conversation  came  about  easily,  as 


250     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

though  it  were  meant  to  be.  She  was  watching 
Mary's  play,  standing  behind  the  next  chair.  Sud- 
denly a  man  occupying  the  chair  got  up  and  went 
away  from  the  table.  Instantly  Lady  Dauntrey 
dropped  into  the  vacant  place,  as  if  she  had  been 
waiting  for  it. 

She  did  not  really  wish  to  play,  though  she  liked 
gambling,  for  she  had  been  unlucky  in  the  small 
game  she  had  attempted,  and  had  grown  cautious, 
anxious  to  keep  what  she  had.  But  on  a  crowded 
night  it  is  almost  obligatory  to  play  if  one  has 
annexed  a  chair  which  many  people  would  like  to 
have.  Eve  reluctantly  took  out  two  louis,  the  only 
coins  in  her  imitation  gold  bag.  She  was  not  near 
a  croupier,  and  having  seen  already  that  a  few  five- 
franc  pieces  lay  among  her  neighbour's  gold  and 
notes,  she  asked  Mary  with  a  pleasant  smile  if  she 
would  mind  changing  a  louis  for  her.  "I'm  not 
lucky,  like  you,"  she  said,  "so  I'm  afraid  to  play 
with  gold." 

Mary  pushed  four  five-franc  pieces  along  the 
table,  and  would  have  been  only  too  glad  not  to 
accept  the  gold  in  exchange,  but  of  course  she  could 
not  make  a  present  of  money  to  Lady  Dauntrey. 
"I  shall  be  delighted,"  she  said. 

"You're  sure  you're  not  wanting  your  silver?" 
Eve  inquired. 

"Oh,  no,  thank  you.  I  sometimes  put  five  francs 
on  zero  en  plein  to  protect  half  a  stake  on  a  simple 
chance,"  Mary  explained,  now  thoroughly  con- 
versant with  every  intricacy  of  the  game  that  had 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     251 

been  so  kind  to  her.  "But  zero's  been  up  three 
times  in  half  an  hour,  so  I  don't  think  I  shall  bother 
with  it  again  for  a  while.  And,  anyhow,  I'm  not 
playing  for  a  few  minutes.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if 
I  must  wait  for  an  inspiration." 

"I  wish  I  ever  had  one!"  sighed  Lady  Dauntrey, 
hesitating  over  one  of  her  big  silver  coins.  "Do  tell 
me  where  to  put  this.  You're  so  wonderful,  you 
might  bring  even  me  a  stroke  of  luck." 

"But  I  should  be  so  distressed  if  I  made  you 
lose,"  Mary  said,  as  gravely  as  if  the  five-franc 
piece  in  question  had  been  a  mille  note.  "But  — 
well  —  if  it  were  mine,  I  rather  think  I  should 
try  ten.  I've  no  inspiration  for  myself  this 
time;  but  I  seem  to  see  ten  floating  in  the  air 
around  you,  and  that's  the  way  my  inspirations 
come.  I  see  numbers  or  colours,  and  then  I  play 
on  them." 

"I'll  try  it!"  Eve  exclaimed.  "But  will  you  put 
the  money  on  for  me?  I  want  all  your  luck,  and 
none  of  my  own." 

Mary  pushed  the  five-franc  piece  on  to  the  number 
10,  using  a  rake  of  her  own  which  Dick  Carleton  had 
given  her.  It  was  a  glorified  rake,  which  he  had 
ordered  specially  for  her,  made  of  ebony  with  the 
initials  "M.  G."  set  into  it  in  little  sapphires,  her 
favourite  stones. 

Ten  came  up,  and  Lady  Dauntrey  was  enchanted. 
She  even  felt  an  impulse  of  gratitude,  and  a  super- 
stitious conviction  that  this  girl  would  be  for  her  a 
bringer  of  good  fortune. 


252     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I've  so  often  watched  your  play,  and  wanted 
to  tell  you  how  much  I  admired  it,"  she  said,  "but  I 
never  quite  had  the  courage." 

Lady  Dauntrey  did  not  look  like  a  woman  who 
would  lack  courage  for  anything  she  wished  to  do, 
but  Mary  saw  no  reason  to  disbelieve  her  word,  and 
indeed  did  not  judge  or  criticise  at  all,  except  by 
instinct;  and  people  had  only  to  look  sad  or  complain 
of  their  ill  luck  to  arouse  a  sympathy  stronger  than 
any  instinct  against  them. 

"I  think  it's  very  nice  of  you  to  speak,"  she  re- 
plied, politely.  Both  murmured  in  subdued  tones, 
in  order  not  to  annoy  other  players. 

"I  recognized  you,  of  course,  the  first  time  I  saw 
you  in  the  Casino,"  Lady  Dauntrey  went  on,  "as 
the  lovely  girl  who  came  south  in  the  train  with  us. 
We've  all  been  longing  to  know  you." 

This  was  untrue.  Anxious  to  propitiate  Society 
as  far  as  possible,  Eve  had  avoided  recognizing  Mary, 
who  might  be  looked  upon  as  a  doubtful  person  — 
a  young  girl,  always  strikingly  dressed,  living  alone 
at  a  fashionable  and  gay  hotel,  playing  high  at  the 
Casino,  and  picking  up  odd  acquaintances.  But 
now  Lady  Dauntrey  was  abandoning  all  hope  that 
Society  might  let  her  pass  over  its  threshold,  and 
she  was  willing  to  defy  it  for  the  sake  of  money. 
This  girl  was  at  least  a  lady,  which  Dodo  was  not, 
nor  was  Mrs.  Ernstein,  the  stockbroker's  widow. 
Eve  thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  Miss  Grant 
could  be  persuaded  to  come  and  stay  at  the  Villa 
Bella  Vista  in  the  room  left  vacant  by  the  Collises. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     253 

Mary  was  rather  flattered,  but  she  now  had  an 
inspiration  to  play,  and  did  not  want  to  go  on  talk- 
ing. "I  think  ten  will  come  up  again,  or  else  eleven," 
she  said,  with  the  misty  look  in  her  eyes  which  was 
always  there  at  the  Casino,  or  when  her  thoughts 
were  intent  on  gambling.  "I  shall  play  the  two 
numbers  a  cheval." 

She  put  on  a  maximum,  Lady  Dauntrey  hastily 
placing  a  five-franc  piece,  not  on  the  cheval,  but 
more  timidly  on  the  six  numbers  of  which  ten  and 
eleven  were  two.  Mary  lost  and  Eve  won,  for 
thirteen  came  up.  The  same  thing  happened 
several  times  in  succession.  If  Mary  chose  a 
number,  Lady  Dauntrey  included  it  in  a  transversale 
simple,  or  took  the  dozen  in  which  it  was.  Mary 
invariably  lost,  while  she  won.  It  was  as  if  she 
gave  Mary  bad  luck,  while  Mary  brought  her  good 
fortune,  for  never  had  Mary  so  often  lost,  never  had 
Eve  won  so  often  in  succession. 

At  last  all  the  money  which  Mary  had  brought 
with  her  was  exhausted,  and  Lady  Dauntrey,  who 
had  raked  in  more  than  twenty  louis,  offered  laugh- 
ingly to  lend  her  something  to  go  on  with.  But 
Mary  thanked  her  and  refused,  in  spite  of  the  tra- 
dition of  the  tables  that  borrowed  money  brings 
back  good  luck. 

"I'm  rather  tired,  and  my  head  aches  a  little," 
she  said.  "I  think  I'll  go  home." 

Eve  rose  also.  "You  call  the  Hotel  de  Paris 
'home?'  "  she  asked. 

"I  begin  to  feel  quite  at  home,"  Mary  answered. 


£54     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I've  been  there  nearly  three  weeks,  and  it  seems 
longer." 

They  walked  together  out  of  the  bright  room  of 
the  large  decorative  picture  called  jestingly  "The 
Three  Disgraces,"  on  through  the  Salle  Schmidt, 
and  so  to  the  atrium.  "If  you  don't  mind," 
said  Lady  Dauntrey,  "I'll  go  with  you  as  far  as 
your  hotel.  There's  a  hat  in  a  shop  round  the 
corner  I've  been  dying  for.  Now,  thanks  to  the 
luck  you've  brought  me,  I  shall  treat  myself  to  it, 
as  a  kind  of  Christmas  present.  You  know,  day 
after  to-morrow  will  be  Christmas.  Surely  you'll 
be  rather  lonely  in  your  'home'  then,  or  have  you 
friends  who  are  going  to  take  you  away  for  the  day  ?  " 

"No,"  Mary  replied,  as  they  went  down  the  steps 
of  the  Casino.  "No  one  has  mentioned  Christmas. 
I  suppose  people  don't  think  as  much  about  cele- 
brating Christmas  here,  where  it's  almost  like  sum- 
mer. Besides,  I  have  very  few  friends." 

"Haven't  you  made  a  good  many  acquaintances?" 

"Not  many.  Four  or  five.  One  lady  has 
called  —  I  think  she  is  the  wife  of  the  chaplain  of  the 
Church  of  England  —  but  I  was  out,  and  I  haven't 
returned  her  visit  yet.  One  seems  to  have  so  little 
time  here!  And  the  cure  of  Roquebrune,  the  village 
on  the  hill,  has  been  —  twice.  I  was  out  both 
times.  I'm  always  out,  I'm  afraid.  But  that  re- 
minds me,  I  must  send  him  a  Christmas  present 
for  his  church." 

"I  should  be  delighted  if  you'd  dine  with  us  on 
Christmas  night,"  said  Lady  Dauntrey,  cordially. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     255 

"Do!  At  eight  o'clock.  We  have  such  a  merry 
party  with  us  —  all  young,  or  if  not  young  they  feel 
so,  which  is  the  true  Christmas  spirit." 

"You're  very  kind "  Mary  began;  but 

suspecting  hesitation,  Lady  Dauntrey  broke  in. 
"That's  settled,  then.  I'm  50  pleased!  And  would 
you  care  to  go  to  a  dance  on  Christmas  eve?  —  a 
rather  wonderful  dance  it  will  be,  on  board  a  big 
yacht  in  the  harbour.  You  must  have  noticed  her 
—  White  Lady  her  name  is  —  and  she  belongs  to 
Mr.  Samuel  Holbein,  the  South  African  million- 
aire. You've  heard  of  him,  of  course.  His  wife 
and  daughter  are  on  board,  and  they've  begged  me 
to  bring  as  many  girls  to  the  dance  as  I  can,  for 
there'll  be  a  lot  of  men.  You  know  there  are  heaps 
more  young  men  about  here  than  there  are  girls  — 
so  unusual  except  at  Monte  Carlo." 

"A  dance  on  a  yacht!"  Mary  echoed.  The 
idea  tempted  her,  though  she  hardly  felt  friendly 
enough  yet  with  Lady  Dauntrey  to  accept  two  in- 
vitations from  her  at  once.  "It  sounds  interesting." 

"It  will  be.  Do  say  yes.  I  shall  love  to  chaperon 
you." 

They  were  at  the  steps  of  the  Hotel  de  Paris. 

"Then  I  say  'yes,'  "  answered  Mary,  "and  thank 
you!" 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  all  arranged.  And  Lady 
Dauntrey  bade  Miss  Grant  goodbye,  gayly,  calling 
her  a  "mascotte."  She  turned  the  corner  as  if  to 
go  to  the  shop  of  the  hats.  But  there  was  no  hat 
there  which  she  particularly  wanted.  She  had 


256     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

merely  sought  an  excuse  to  walk  as  far  as  the  Hotel 
de  Paris  with  Mary.  When  the  girl  had  disappeared 
behind  the  glass  doors,  Eve  went  back  quickly  to 
the  Casino,  where  her  husband  was  playing.  She 
could  not  bear  to  be  long  away  from  him  when  he 
was  there.  It  was  agony  not  to  know  whether  he 
had  lost  or  won. 


XV 

AFTER  the  aviation  week  Vanno  Delia  Robbia 
still  had  the  excuse  of  waiting  for  Prince  Angelo  and 
his  bride.  It  was  as  well  therefore  to  be  at  Monte 
Carlo  as  anywhere  else  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
villa  they  would  occupy  at  Cap  Martin. 

They  had  been  detained  in  England  by  a  "com- 
mand" visit  to  royalty,  but  would  soon  come  to  the 
Riviera.  In  a  letter  Angelo  asked  his  younger 
brother  to  go  over  to  Cap  Martin  and  look  at  the 
house,  which  Vanno  did:  and  prolonging  his  ex- 
cursion to  the  ruined,  historic  convent  on  the  Cap, 
met  Miss  Grant  strolling  there  with  Jim  Schuyler 
and  Dick  Carleton.  He  passed  near  enough  to 
hear  that  Schuyler  was  telling  the  legend  of  the 
place:  how  the  nuns  played  a  joke  on  the  men 
of  Roquebrune,  the  appointed  guardians  of  their 
safety,  by  ringing  the  alarm  bell  to  see  if  the  soldiers 
of  the  castle  town  on  the  hill  would  indeed  turn  out 
to  the  rescue.  How  the  very  night  after  the  men 
had  run  down  in  vain,  the  bell  pealed  out  again,  and 
the  guardians  remained  snugly  in  their  beds,  only 
to  hear  next  day  that  this  time  the  alarm  had  been 
real.  Saracens  had  sacked  the  convent,  carried  off 
all  the  young  and  pretty  nuns,  and  murdered  the 
old  ones. 

257 


258     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Schuyler  and  Carleton  both  bowed  to  Vanno, 
whom  they  had  met  several  times  during  the  "fly- 
ing week"  at  Nice,  and  Schuyler  interrupted  his 
story  long  enough  to  say  to  Mary,  "That's  Prince 
Giovanni  Delia  Robbia,  who  invented  the  para- 
chute Rongier  tested  so  successfully  the  other  day. 
Dick  met  him  once  in  Egypt.  He  goes  star-gazing 
in  the  desert,  I  believe,  consorting  with  Arabs,  and 
learning  all  sorts  of  Eastern  patois" 

Neither  Vanno  (who  caught  the  sound  of  his  name 
in  passing)  nor  Schuyler  guessed  the  half-reluctant 
interest  with  which  Mary  heard  the  name  of  her 
sulky  neighbour  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris,  and  learned 
those  few  details  of  his  life. 

Vanno  had  been  more  than  once  to  Roquebrune 
since  the  first  day,  and  knew  that  the  cure  had  called 
twice  upon  Miss  Grant,  without  finding  her  at  home. 
He  knew,  too,  that  the  priest  had  received  no  visit 
from  her  in  return;  nor  had  he  again  seen  or  heard 
of  the  "strange  lady"  who  had  come  to  question 
him  about  Prince  Angelo. 

Vanno  was  deeply  disappointed  at  the  failure  of 
his  plan,  and  feared  that  Mary  wished  to  avoid  know- 
ing the  priest;  otherwise  she  might  at  least  have  gone 
to  church  at  Roquebrune.  She  made  other  ex- 
cursions, when  she  could  tear  herself  from  the  Casino, 
on  irresistibly  bright  afternoons.  Not  only  had 
he  seen  her  at  Cap  Martin,  but  in  Nice  and  in  Men- 
tone;  once,  motoring  into  Italy  with  people  whose 
faces  were  strange  to  Vanno,  and  unpromising;  and 
with  the  same  party  again  in  the  beautiful  garden 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     259 

at  Beaulieu,  where  it  is  fashionable  to  drink  tea  and 
watch  the  sunset.  But  she  did  not  make  time  to  go 
to  Roquebrune,  and  show  a  little  graceful  gratitude 
for  the  cure's  kindly  interest. 

The  desire  grew  stronger  in  Vanno  to  speak  to 
her,  to  know  something  of  her  besides  the  perhaps 
deceiving  beauty  of  her  face,  but  he  clung  in 
firmness  or  obstinacy  to  the  resolve  of  which  he 
had  told  his  friend.  He  knew  that  he  could  not 
help  her  as  the  cure  might,  and  secretly  he  feared 
himself.  Once  the  ice  was  broken  in  making  her 
acquaintance,  he  was  not  sure  that  he  could  still 
be  strong. 

But  one  afternoon  he  had  been  taking  a  long  walk 
alone,  as  was  his  custom  every  day.  Coming  down 
from  a  Ligurian  fort,  by  an  old  mule  track  that 
ended  on  the  upper  Corniche  road,  he  saw  an  auto- 
mobile which  had  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  path. 
A  girl  in  a  rose-red  motor-bonnet  and  a  moleskin 
coat  was  standing  up  in  the  car,  her  eyes  raised,  her 
chin  lifted  like  a  flower  tilted  in  its  stem,  intent  on 
something  which  Vanno  could  not  see.  The  girl  was 
Miss  Grant,  and  Vanno's  heart  gave  a  bound,  then 
seemed  to  contract  at  sight  of  her,  so  near  him  and 
alone. 

The  automobile  was  drawn  up  so  close  to  the  de- 
scending mule  path  that  Vanno  saw  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  pass  unless  the  chauffeur  started  the 
engine  and  moved  the  car  on  a  little;  but  rather  than 
this  should  be  necessary,  he  halted  abruptly  a  few 
yards  above  the  level  of  the  road. 


260     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

The  rattle  of  footsteps  on  rough  cobbles  roused 
Mary  from  her  study  of  the  thing  which  Vanno  could 
not  see.  She  glanced  up,  expecting  some  peasant 
who  would  want  to  pass  her  car.  At  sight  of  the 
Prince  halted  on  the  path  and  looking  down  into 
her  uplifted  face,  she  blushed.  It  was  just  such  a 
blush  as  had  dyed  her  cheeks  painfully  the  night 
when  he  frowned  in  answer  to  her  friendly  smile; 
and  Vanno  knew  that  she  was  thinking  of  it.  The 
remorse  he  had  suffered  then,  when  too  late,  came 
back  to  him.  If  she  had  not  blushed  now  in  the 
same  childlike,  hurt  way,  he  was  sure  that  he  could 
have  kept  to  his  resolution  not  to  speak.  He  would 
simply  have  stood  still,  gazing  away  into  distance 
until  she  was  ready  to  go  on;  or  at  most  he  would 
have  said  with  cool  politeness,  "Please  don't  let  me 
disturb  you.  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  pass."  But  in 
an  instant  it  rushed  over  him  that  here  was  his 
chance  to  atone  for  an  unkindness,  and  that  if  he  did 
not  quickly  seize  it  he  would  be  sorry  all  the  rest  of 
his  life.  Besides,  it  flashed  into  his  mind  that  by 
speaking  of  a  certain  thing  he  could  easily  lead  up 
to  the  subject  of  the  cure.  He  wanted  very  much  to 
know  whether  she  attached  any  importance  to  the 
visits  of  the  priest. 

Vanno  took  off  his  hat  to  Mary,  bowing  gravely. 
He  had  guessed  her  reason  for  bringing  the  car  to 
rest  at  this  place,  and  it  gave  him  his  excuse.  A 
step  or  two  farther  down  the  mule  path  brought  him 
near  enough  to  speak  without  raising  his  voice.  "I 
think,"  he  said,  "you  must  have  stopped  here  to  look 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     261 

at  the  marble  tablet  set  in  the  rock.  Will  you  let 
me  tell  you  something  about  it  —  unless  you  know 
its  history  already?" 

"I  thank  you.  I  don't  know.  I  was  wondering 
about  it."  Mary  stammered  a  little,  blushing  very 
deeply,  partly  with  embarrassment  —  though  she 
was  not  embarrassed  when  other  strangers  spoke 
to  her  —  partly  in  surprise  at  hearing  the  "Roman 
Prince"  speak  English  like  an  Englishman.  "Please 
do  tell  me." 

Before  he  spoke,  she  had  given  a  quick  order  to 
the  chauffeur  to  move  on  and  leave  the  end  of  the 
mule  path  free.  Now  the  heart  of  the  motor  began 
to  beat,  and  the  car  rolled  a  few  feet  farther  on. 
Vanno  came  out  into  the  thick  white  dust  of  the 
much-travelled  road,  and  he  and  Mary  could  both 
look  up  to  the  tablet  he  had  mentioned. 

It  was  an  oblong  piece  of  marble,  set  high  on  the 
face  of  gray  rock  which  on  one  side  walled  the 
upper  Corniche,  Napoleon's  road.  On  it  was  the 
curious  inscription:  "Remember  eternal  at  my  heart. 
February,  1881." 

"It  is  so  strange,"  Mary  said,  trying  to  seem  at 
ease,  and  not  show  the  slightest  emotion.  It  was 
ridiculous  to  feel  emotion!  Yet  she  could  not  help 
being  absurdly  happy,  because  this  man  who  had 
snubbed  her  once  and  apparently  disapproved  her 
always  was  speaking  to  her  of  his  own  accord,  in 
kindness. 

"  'Remember  eternal  at  my  heart?'  It's  like  the 
English  of  a  person  not  English.  But  why  did  he 


262     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

not  have  the  words  put  in  his  own  language,  which 
he  knew?  " 

"That  is  what  everybody  wonders,"  Vanno  said, 
finding  it  as  difficult  as  Mary  found  it,  not  to  show 
that  this  conversation  was  of  immense,  exciting  im- 
portance. "It  puzzled  me  so  much  when  I  first 
came  this  way  that  I  couldn't  get  it  out  of  my  head. 
I  asked  a  friend  who  has  lived  for  years  not  many 
miles  away,  if  he  could  tell  me  what  it  meant." 

"And  could  he  tell  you?" 

"He  told  me  a  story  which  he  believed  but  would 
not  vouch  for.  Only,  a  very  old  inhabitant  told 
it  to  him.  It  appeals  to  me  as  true.  It  must  be 
true."  A  new  warmth  stole  into  Vanno's  voice  as 
he  spoke.  They  had  both  been  looking  up  at  the 
tablet  on  the  rock,  but  as  that  thrill  like  a  chord 
on  a  violin  struck  her  ear,  Mary  turned  to  him. 
Their  eyes  met,  as  they  had  so  often  met,  but  to-day 
there  was  no  coldness  in  Vanno's,  or  hurt  pride  in 
Mary's. 

"Can  you  think  of  any  reason  for  the  bad  Eng- 
lish?" he  asked.  He  longed  to  hear  what  she  would 
say. 

She  thought  for  a  minute.  "Could  it  be,"  she  re- 
flected aloud,  "that  the  person  who  had  the  tablet 
put  up  associated  this  place  with  some  one  who 
was  English  —  maybe  a  woman,  if  he  was  a  man 
—  and  so  he  wanted  to  use  her  language,  not  his 
own?" 

"You  have  guessed  right!"  exclaimed  Vanno, 
boyishly  delighted  with  her  intuition.  "He  was  an 


Italian.  He  loved  an  English  girl."  The  romantic 
dark  eyes  which  had  so  often  burned  with  gloomy 
fire  in  looking  at  her  burned  with  a  different  flame 
for  an  instant;  then  quickly,  as  if  with  a  common 
impulse,  the  girl  and  the  man  tore  their  looks  apart. 
"They  met  here  on  the  Riviera,"  Vanno  went  on, 
not  quite  steadily.  "It  was  at  this  spot  they  first 
found  out  that  they  loved  each  other,  according  to 
the  story  of  my  friend." 

He  paused  involuntarily.  His  mouth  was  dry. 
When  he  began  to  explain  the  tablet,  he  had  not 
realized  what  it  would  be  like  to  tell  the  story  to  this 
girl  at  this  place.  It  was  as  if  some  other  voice, 
talking  above  his  with  his  words,  gave  a  meaning 
and  an  emphasis  which  must  be  unmistakable  to  her. 
It  was  hard  to  go  on,  for  with  each  sentence  he  would 
surely  stumble  deeper  into  difficulty.  Yet  the  si- 
lence was  electrical.  Unsaid  things  seemed  rustling 
in  ambush.  He  dared  not  look  again  at  Mary,  and 
he  felt  that  she  dared  not  look  at  him.  But  it  was 
necessary  to  go  on,  and  he  took  up  the  narrative 
clumsily,  fearing  to  tangle  the  thread. 

"The  Italian  asked  the  girl  to  marry  him  —  here, 
where  we  stand.  And  they  were  engaged.  But 
in  a  few  weeks  or  months  something  happened.  My 
friend  is  not  sure  whether  she  died,  or  whether  some 
one  came  between  them.  He  is  sure  only  that  they 
parted.  And  afterward  the  man  had  this  tablet 
put  up  to  mark  the  spot  where  he  had  lived  his 
happiest  hour." 

"It  is  a  sad  story,"  Mary  said. 


264      THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Yes.  It  is  sad.  But  it  is  beautiful,  too.  He 
was  faithful.  'Remember  eternal  at  my  heart." 

"Perhaps  those  were  the  very  words  he  spoke  to 
her  here,  when  —  they  loved  each  other  and  he  was 
trying  to  talk  in  her  language." 

"I  thought  of  that,  too.  It's  almost  certain  he 
said  these  words,  to  assure  her  that  he  could  never 
forget  this  place." 

"No  one  else  can  forget,  who  knows  the  story.  It 
makes  the  tablet  seem  haunted." 

"Would  you  be  afraid  to  see  the  ghosts  of  those 
lovers?"  Vanno  asked. 

"No,"  Mary  answered.  "For  if  he  too  is  dead  — 
and  1881  is  quite  a  long  time  ago!  —  they  must  be 
happy  together  now.  Happy  ghosts  would  try  to 
give  happiness  to  others." 

Instantly  the  sentiment  was  uttered  Mary  re- 
gretted it.  She  feared  that  the  man  might  think 
she  associated  herself  with  him  in  some  vague  hope 
of  happiness.  "I  trust  at  least,"  she  hurried  on, 
"  that  the  story  of  the  lovers  is  true." 

"It  was  the  cure  of  Roquebrune  who  told  it  to 
me.  He  thinks  it  more  probable  than  two  or  three 
other  tales,"  Vanno  said,  speaking  slowly,  to  impress 
the  name  of  his  informant  upon  the  girl.  "The 
cure  is  a  most  interesting  man.  Perhaps  you've 
met  him?"  He  asked  this  question  doubtfully, 
lest  Mary  should  guess  that  it  was  to  him  she  owed 
the  cure's  visits;  but  she  was  unsuspicious 

"No.  He  called  on  me  when  I  was  out.  I  don't 
know  why  he  came,"  she  said.  She  looked  a  little 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     265 

guilty,  because  she  would  have  gone  up  to  the  church 
of  Roquebrune  after  the  second  call  if  she  had  not 
been  afraid  that  the  cure  had  been  sent  to  see  her 
by  some  one  at  home  who  had  found  out  that  she 
was  on  the  Riviera.  Vanno,  misunderstanding  her 
change  of  expression,  said  no  more,  though  he  had 
begun  his  story  with  the  intention  of  leading  up  to 
this.  They  parted  with  polite  thanks  from  Mary 
for  his  information,  thanks  which  seemed  banal,  a 
strange  anti-climax  coming  after  the  story  of  the 
lovers.  Yet  they  went  away  from  one  another  with 
an  aftermath  of  their  first  unreasoning  happiness 
still  lingering  in  their  hearts.  That  night  at  dinner 
they  bowed  to  each  other  slightly;  and  during  the 
week  that  followed  before  Christmas  eve,  sometimes 
Vanno  almost  believed  in  the  girl;  sometimes  he 
lost  hope  of  her,  and  was  plunged  from  his  unreason- 
ing happiness  to  the  dark  depths  of  a  still  more  un- 
reasoning despair.  But  he  knew  that  she  thought 
of  him.  He  saw  it  in  her  eyes,  or  in  the  turn  of  her 
head  if  she  ostentatiously  looked  away  from  him. 
And  he  did  not  know  whether  he  were  glad  or  sorry, 
for  he  saw  no  good  that  could  come  of  what  he  began 
to  call  his  infatuation. 

The  morning  of  Christmas  eve  arrived,  and  with 
it  a  telegram  to  say  that  Angelo  and  his  bride  Marie 
were  delayed  again  until  the  eve  of  New  Year's  Day, 
the  great  fete  of  France.  Vanno  was  disappointed, 
for  he  had  expected  them  that  night,  and  would 
have  liked  to  be  with  them  on  Christmas.  He 
resolved  to  invite  the  cure  to  dine  with  him  on 


266     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Christmas  night;  and  meanwhile,  strolling  on  the 
Casino  terrace  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Mary,  he  ran 
across  Jean  Rongier,  the  airman,  the  young  French 
baron  who  had  achieved  a  sensational  success  at 
Nice  for  the  new  Delia  Robbia  parachute.  On  the 
strength  of  this  feat  the  two  had  become  good 
friends,  and  Vanno  had  been  up  several  times  in 
Rongier's  Bleriot  monoplane. 

"A  favour,  mon  ami,"  Rongier  began  as  they 
met.  "I  was  on  the  point  of  calling  at  your  hotel, 
to  ask  it  of  you.  Go  with  me  to-night  to  a  dance  on 
board  the  big  yacht  White  Lady,  that  you  can  see 
down  there  in  the  harbour." 

"Many  thanks,  but  no!"  laughed  Vanno.  "I 
haven't  danced  since  I  was  twenty;  and  even  if  I 
had  I  don't  know  White  Lady's  owner.' 

"That  is  nothing,"  said  Rongier.  "Nobody 
knows  him,  but  every  one  is  going  —  that  is,  all  the 
men  we  know  are  going;  and  you  will  go,  to  please 
me." 

"I'd  do  a  good  deal  to  please  you,  but  not  that," 
Vanno  persisted. 

"If  I  tell  you  a  lady  whom  I  am  anxious  —  par- 
ticularly anxious  —  to  please,  will  be  angry  with  me 
if  you  refuse?  She  makes  it  a  point  that  I  bring 

you." 

"That's  a  different  matter,"  said  Vanno  good- 
naturedly.  "I  suppose  she  doesn't  make  it  a  point 
for  me  to  stay  through  the  whole  evening?" 

rtYou  can  settle  that  with  her,"  Rongier  reas- 
sured him.  "I  thought  you  wouldn't  fail  me. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     267 

She's  heard  about  your  blue  comet  and  your  yellow 
desert,  and  your  new  parachute,  and  has  probably 
mixed  them  all  up;  but  the  result  is  that  she  wants 
to  meet  you." 

"Very  kind.  I  wish  I  could  do  the  comet  and  the 
desert  the  same  credit  you  do  the  parachute.  But 
who  is  'She'?" 

"Miss  Holbein,  the  daughter  of  the  yacht's 
owner.  English  people  here,  I  understand,  won't 
know  her  father  because  he  was  once  an  I.  D.  B.  and 
is  now  a  money-lender;  but  thank  heaven  we  who 
have  Latin  blood  in  our  veins  are  neither  snobs  nor 
hypocrites.  By  the  way,  Holbein  called  some  fellow 
at  the  Casino  a  'snob'  the  other  night,  and  the  man 
returned,  'If  I  were  a  snob,  I  wouldn't  know  you.' 
Holbein  thought  it  so  smart  he  goes  about  repeating 
the  story  against  himself,  which  proves  he  balances 
his  millions  with  a  sense  of  humour.  Miss  Holbein 
is  handsome.  Jewesses  can  be  the  most  beautiful 
women  in  the  world,  don't  you  think?  and  though 
she  is  snubbed  by  the  grandes  dames  here  and  per- 
haps elsewhere,  I  notice  that  snubs  generally  come 
home  to  roost.  She  will  have  all  the  millions  one 
day,  and  she  is  clever  enough  to  pay  people  back  in 
their  own  coin  —  not  coin  that  she  would  miss  in 
spending.  And  she  is  clever  enough  to  be  Madame 
la  Baronne  Rongier,  wife  to  the  idol  of  the  French 
people,  if  she  thinks  it  worth  while!  Just  for  the 
moment,  though,  I  am  on  my  probation.  I  dare 
refuse  her  nothing  she  wants,  and  she  wants  Prince 
Giovanni  Delia  Robbia  at  her  mother's  dance." 


268     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"That  unworthy  person  is  at  her  service,"  Vanno 
said,  bored  at  the  prospect,  but  willing  to  please 
his  friend. 

Mrs.  Ernstein  and  Dodo  Wardropp  were  eagerly 
looking  forward  to  the  Christmas  eve  dance  on  board 
White  Lady.  Mrs.  Collis  and  Lottie  had  been  look- 
ing forward  to  it  too;  and  after  they  went  from  the 
villa  they  wrote  almost  humbly  to  ask  Mrs.  Holbein 
if  they  might  still  come,  though  they  were  no  longer 
with  her  friend  Lady  Dauntrey.  To  their  joy  and 
surprise  she  had  written  back  cordially  to  say 
she  hoped  most  certainly  they  would  come,  and 
bring  friends.  She  had  seemed  far  from  cordial 
to  them  or  anybody  else  when  lunching  at  the  Villa 
Bella  Vista  on  the  unfortunate  occasion  of  the  dish- 
towel;  indeed,  she  had  been  lymphatic,  and  had 
scarcely  troubled  to  speak  to  any  one;  but  now  the 
Collises  thought  they  had  misjudged  her. 

This  was  the  first  entertainment  for  which  Lady 
Dauntrey  had  contrived  to  secure  invitations  for 
her  guests;  and  Dodo,  Mrs.  Ernstein,  and  the  Collises 
had  been  delightedly  telling  every  one  they  knew 
(not  a  large  number)  that  they  were  going  to  the 
White  Lady  dance.  It  was  a  pleasure  at  last  to  be 
able  to  tell  of  something  happening  to  them  which 
might  excite  envy.  So  far,  they  had  felt  that  as 
the  Dauntreys'  guests  they  were  being  pitied  or 
laughed  at  by  those  they  would  have  liked  to  impress. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  Holbeins,  being 
enormously  rich,  would  do  everything  very  well; 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     269 

and  Lady  Dauntrey  remarked  more  than  once  that 
Mrs.  Holbein  had  told  her  people  were  "simply 
crawling"  for  invitations. 

Not  till  the  last  moment  did  Eve  inform  any  one 
that  she  was  taking  Miss  Grant,  for  she  had  not  yet 
mentioned  speaking  to  her  the  other  day  at  the 
Casino.  It  was  arranged  that,  the  villa  being  much 
nearer  than  the  Hotel  de  Paris  to  the  yacht,  Mary 
should  call  for  her  chaperon;  therefore,  as  Eve  had 
said  nothing,  it  was  a  great  surprise  when  the  house 
party  had  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  putting 
on  their  wraps  and  buttoning  their  gloves,  to  hear 
the  "sulky  codfish"  announce  Miss  Grant. 

Mary  walked  into  the  dull  drab  room  in  a  dress 
which  appeared  to  be  made  entirely  of  fine  gold 
tissue,  her  hair  banded  with  a  wreath  of  diamond 
laurel  leaves,  which  made  her  look  extraordinarily 
Greek  and  classic. 

No  one  else,  not  even  the  rich  Mrs.  Ernstein,  had 
a  dress  which  compared  to  this,  and  Mary's  entrance 
was  received  in  shocked  silence  by  the  ladies,  with 
the  exception  of  Eve,  who  greeted  her  "mascotte" 
warmly,  with  compliments. 

Lady  Dauntrey's  efforts  to  make  the  drawing-room 
more  habitable  before  Mary  saw  it  would  have 
seemed  almost  pathetic  to  any  one  who  understood; 
and  they  had  seemed  pathetic  to  Lord  Dauntrey. 
He  was  more  or  less  in  her  confidence,  and  still  under 
her  spell.  It  was  for  him,  she  had  said,  that  she 
wanted  to  secure  a  new  paying-guest  who  had  plenty 
of  money  to  put  into  the  "system,"  and  who  loved 


270      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

gambling  better  than  anything  else.  He  had  helped 
Eve  and  the  codfish  decorate  both  drawing-room 
and  dining-room  for  Christmas,  in  order  that  Mary 
might  take  a  fancy  to  the  place,  and  consent  to  come 
as  a  boarder.  There  were  a  good  many  pine  branches 
pinned  on  to  curtains  and  stuck  into  huge,  ugly 
Japanese  vases,  a  few  wreaths  hiding  damp  or  dirty 
patches  on  the  wall.  Crookedly  hung  pictures  had 
been  straightened;  some  Christmas  magazines  were 
lying  about,  and  bowls  of  chrysanthemums  relieved 
the  room  of  its  wonted  gloom.  It  really  had  almost 
a  festive  air;  and  after  her  rather  lonely  life  at  the 
hotel,  the  place  and  the  people  seemed  pleasant  to 
Mary.  She  was  so  enchanted  with  a  little  shivering 
marmoset,  which  Miss  Wardropp  had  bought  of  a 
wandering  monkey-merchant  in  the  Galerie  Charles 
Trois,  that  Dodo  forgave  her  the  wonderful  dress 
and  filet,  if  she  did  not  quite  forgive  Lady  Dauntrey 
the  surprise.  Then  Mrs.  Ernstein  produced  two 
trained  sparrows,  which  she  called  her  "mosquito 
hawks"  and  took  with  her  everywhere.  Mary  told 
them  both  about  an  adorable  blue  frog  named 
Hilda  which  she  had  bought  at  a  Mentone  china- 
shop;  and  in  comparing  pets  the  atmosphere  cleared. 
They  all  started  off  in  cabs  for  the  harbour  and 
White  Lady's  slip,  where  a  motor-launch  from  the 
yacht  would  meet  them;  and  Mary  made  friends 
with  Dom  Ferdinand,  who  was  the  only  man  in  the 
carriage  with  her  and  Lady  Dauntrey. 

Arriving  at  the  slip  they  found  Major  Norwood  and 
the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana  also  waiting  for  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     271 

launch,  with  Captain  Hannaford;  and  Mary  intro- 
duced all  three  to  the  party  from  the  Villa  Bella 
Vista,  whom  they  did  not  yet  know.  Then  came 
Dick  Carleton,  alone,  for  Schuyler  had  firmly  re- 
fused to  sacrifice  himself  on  the  altar  of  friendship, 
and  half  a  dozen  smart,  merry  little  officers  of  the 
Chasseurs  Alpins,  stationed  at  Mentone,  and  up  at 
the  lonely  fort  on  Mont  Agel.  By  this  time  it  was 
late,  for  Lady  Dauntrey  wished  to  make  a  dramatic 
entry  after  most  of  the  guests  had  already  come  on 
board,  and  the  wish  was  more  than  granted.  She, 
with  her  gorgeous  widow  and  the  two  girls,  attended 
by  fifteen  men,  burst  upon  the  crowd,  who,  for  the 
best  of  reasons,  had  not  yet  begun  to  dance.  Be- 
sides Mrs.  Holbein  and  her  daughter,  there  was  not 
another  woman  present  until  the  party  from  the 
Villa  Bella  Vista  appeared. 

Seldom  could  there  have  been  a  more  curious 
scene,  upon  a  magnificently  appointed  yacht,  dec- 
orated for  a  dance.  Already,  when  Lady  Daun- 
trey and  her  impromptu  train  arrived,  forty  or  fifty 
men  were  assembled  on  a  deck  screened  in  by  flags 
and  masses  of  palms  and  flowers.  A  Hungarian 
band  imported  from  Paris  was  playing,  not  dance 
music,  for  that  would  have  been  a  mockery  in  the 
circumstances,  but  gay  marches  and  lively  airs  to 
cheer  drooping  spirits.  Of  all  the  women  invited 
(some  of  whom  Mrs.  Holbein  scarcely  knew)  only 
Lady  Dauntrey  and  her  house-party  had  accepted, 
for  word  had  gone  forth  from  the  Elect  that,  in  good 
American  slang,  the  notorious  Jew  money-lender 


272     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

and  his  common  wife  were  "the  limit."  As  for  the 
girl,  she  did  not  count,  except  in  cash.  Now,  when 
it  was  too  late,  Mrs.  Holbein  desperately  regretted 
that  she  had  slighted  some  of  her  old  friends,  who  had 
once  been  good  enough  for  her  to  know,  and  who 
would  have  flocked  to  her  dance  gladly.  There 
were  plenty  of  them  scattered  about  between  San 
Remo  and  Nice,  who  were  at  this  moment  feeling 
aggrieved  by  the  Holbeins'  neglect.  If  only  they 
had  been  bidden,  these  contemptuously  amused 
men  would  have  had  partners,  even  though  the  list 
of  names  in  the  society  papers  might  have  excited 
some  derision.  Mrs.  Holbein  had  aimed  high  and 
overshot  the  mark.  The  result  was  tragic.  And 
though  her  vulgar  nature,  writhing  in  humiliation, 
judged  others  by  itself  and  believed  all  to  be  laugh- 
ing maliciously,  there  were  some  who  could  not 
laugh. 

Vanno  Delia  Robbia  detested  vulgar  people,  and 
had  disliked  the  idea  of  coming  to  the  dance;  but 
now  that  he  was  here,  on  their  beautiful  yacht,  he 
pitied  the  wretched  Holbeins  so  intensely  that  he 
felt  physically  ill.  The  man,  with  fiercely  shining 
eyes  and  hawk  nose,  hunching  up  his  round  shoulders 
as  he  clenched  and  unclenched  his  pudgy  hands, 
deeply  hidden  in  his  pockets,  was  horribly  pathetic 
to  Vanno,  who  tried  not  to  see  the  little  bright  beads 
that  oozed  out  of  the  tight-skinned  forehead.  Even 
more  pathetic  was  the  woman,  blazing  in  20,000 
diamond-power,  haggard  under  her  rouged  smile, 
her  large  uncovered  back  and  breast  heaving,  her 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      273 

fat,  ungloved  hands  mere  bunches  of  fingers  and 
rings.  The  girl  did  not  so  much  matter.  She  was 
young  and  handsome,  her  moustache  as  yet  but  the 
shadow  of  a  coming  event;  and  the  affair  was  not  so 
tragic  to  her  since  she  had  the  attention  of  Rongier 
and  plenty  of  other  men.  But  Vanno  had  seen  such 
faces  and  figures  as  those  of  Sam  Holbein  and  his 
wife  in  dusky  shops  at  Constantine.  They  had 
been  happier  and  more  at  home  there. 

Disgustedly  he  knew  that  it  comforted  the  woman 
to  be  talking  with  Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia, 
yet  he  gave  the  comfort  and  spread  it  thickly  for  her 
by  showing  deference,  listening  patiently  to  des- 
perate boastings  of  her  splendid  possessions:  her 
house  in  Park  Lane,  the  castle  "Sam"  had  bought 
in  Fifeshire.  "I  am  a  county  lady  there,  I  can  tell 
you,  Prince!"  she  said,  with  a  giggle  that  just  es- 
caped being  a  sob.  "I  hope  you  will  come  to  my  ball 
at  Dornock  Castle  next  August,  in  the  Games 
Week,  your  Highness;  all  the  men  in  kilts  and 
mostly  with  titles;  our  own  family  pipers,  never  less 
than  six,  playing  for  the  reels.  My  daughter  has 
taken  lessons,  and  I  tell  you  she  can  give  points  to 
some  of  those  Calvanistic  cats  with  Macs  to  their 
names,  and  a  lot  of  rot  about  clans,  who  think  just 
because  they're  Scotch  they're  everybody.  Why, 
some  of  the  old  nobility  up  there  have  got  such  poor, 
degenerated  taste  in  decoration,  they  have  nasty 
plaid  carpets  and  curtains  all  over  their  houses.  We 
had  a  firm  from  Paris  send  their  best  men  to  do  our 
castle  over  new  from  cellar  to  attic,  Empire  and 


274     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Louis.  It's  an  example  to  some  of  those  stuck-up 
Scotch  earls  and  their  prim  countesses.  If  /  had  a 
title  I'd  live  up  to  it!" 

"You  seem  to  do  very  well  without,"  Vanno  said. 

"Well,  we  like  to  show  them  what's  what.  And 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  my  daughter  would  attract 
one  into  the  family  some  day.  But  talking  of  titles, 
here  comes  the  Viscount  and  Viscountess  Dauntrey 
and  that  gentleman  friend  of  theirs  who  may  be  a 
king  any  minute.  There's  a  foreign  Marquis  and 
an  Englishman  with  them,  and  some  pretty  girls,  so 
maybe  things  will  begin  to  wake  up  a  bit." 

Vanno  turned  in  the  direction  of  her  glittering 
eyes,  and  saw  Mary  Grant  approaching  with  a 
large  party;  three  over-dressed,  over-painted,  over- 
jewelled  women;  the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana, 
scintillating  with  decorations;  six  French  officers 
in  uniform,  and  eight  other  men.  The  little  brown 
Indian  royalty  was  walking  with  Mary,  clinging 
closely  to  her  side,  seeing  no  one  but  her,  and  trying 
ostentatiously  to  "cut  out"  Dom  Ferdinand,  who- 
kept  almost  equally  near  on  the  other  side.  Mary, 
as  she  waited  for  Lady  Dauntrey  to  be  boisterously 
greeted  by  host  and  hostess,  smiled  gently  and 
softly  from  one  man  to  the  other,  as  if  she  wished 
to  be  kind  to  both,  and  was  pleased  with  their 
attentions. 

So,  indeed,  she  was  pleased.  It  was  nice  to  be 
admired.  Men  were  amusing  novelties  in  her 
life.  She  thought  them  most  entertaining  creatures^ 
and  quaintly  different  in  all  their  ways  from  women. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     275 

She  was  charmed  with  her  own  dress  and  the  lovely 
filet  of  diamond  laurel  leaves  which  she  had  bought 
at  the  shop  of  the  nice  jeweller  who  was  so  kind. 
She  had  smiled  and  nodded  to  her  image  in  the 
mirror  before  leaving  the  hotel,  as  Cinderella  might 
have  smiled;  for  this  was  her  first  ball.  Never  had 
she  been  to  a  dance  except  those  got  up  among  a  few 
young  people  after  dinner  at  Lady  MacMillan's, 
years  ago  when  she  was  only  a  schoolgirl,  and  the 
convent  dances  where  the  pupils  had  learnt  to  waltz 
together,  and  one  of  the  dear  sisters  had  played  the 
old  piano  in  the  schoolroom. 

Mary  was  wearing  a  good  deal  of  jewellery,  be- 
cause she  loved  it,  and  had  never  had  any  before. 
Much  of  her  winnings  she  had  given  away.  Any  one 
who  asked,  and  made  up  a  pitiful  tale,  could  have 
something  from  her.  The  latest  story  going  about 
in  connection  with  her  reckless  and  unreasoned 
generosity  was  of  what  she  had  done  for  a  band 
of  strolling  Italian  musicians.  She  had  encouraged 
them  to  bleat  and  bawl  their  wornout  songs  in 
wornout  voices,  under  the  windows  of  the  Hotel 
de  Paris,  until  it  had  been  politely  intimated  to 
her  that  the  shriekings  and  tinklings  were  a  nui- 
sance. Mary,  who  loved  and  understood  good 
music,  had  enjoyed  these  disastrous  efforts  no  more 
than  others  had,  but  her  heart  had  been  full  of  pity 
for  the  battered  little  band.  She  could  not  bear  to 
have  their  feelings  hurt;  and  when  at  last  she  had  to 
tell  them  that  they  must  sing  no  more  under  her 
window,  she  gave  the  leader  and  his  wife  a  mille  note 


276     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

each  to  buy  new  instruments  and  costumes  for  the 
entire  company.  The  man  and  woman  had  been 
seen  bursting  into  tears,  and  pressing  garlic  kisses 
on  Mary's  hands,  apparently  against  her  inclination. 
Thus  the  story  had  got  about,  with  many  others  of 
her  eccentric  and  exaggerated  charities.  But  be- 
yond what  she  did  for  all  who  were  in  need,  or  made 
her  think  they  were,  she  had  more  money  than  she 
knew  what  to  do  with  for  herself;  and  much  of  it 
she  had  spent  with  the  jeweller  in  the  Galerie  Charles 
Trois,  who  was  openly  her  slave. 

If  he  offered  her  beautiful  things  at  prices  which 
gave  him  no  margin  of  profit,  she  in  her  ignorance 
of  values  did  not  know  that  the  jewels  were  sur- 
prisingly cheap.  She  bought  of  this  man  because 
he  was  kind,  because  he  begged  her  to  come  to  his 
place,  because  he  seemed  to  enjoy  showing  her  lovely 
ornaments,  and  knew  always,  as  if  by  instinct, 
exactly  what  was  most  suitable  and  becoming.  But 
gossip  said  that  the  jeweller  made  presents  to  the 
eccentric  and  beautiful  girl  whose  career  at  Monte 
Carlo  was  an  interesting  mystery  to  every  one. 
Vanno  had  heard  these  stories  from  Rongier,  before 
he  could  find  presence  of  mind  to  cut  them  short  by 
turning  to  another  subject:  and  seeing  her  to-night, 
dazzling  with  diamonds,  surrounded  by  men  whose 
admiration  she  evidently  liked,  the  good  thoughts 
of  her  which  he  had  eagerly  cherished  were  burnt 
up  in  a  new  flame  of  suspicion,  a  rage  of  jealous 
anger.  He  was  furious  with  the  girl  for  coming  to 
this  dance  which  ladies  of  position  had  ignored,  fu- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     277 

rious  because  she  had  come  with  such  people,  women 
who  painted  their  faces,  and  a  crowd  of  men  of  dif- 
ferent nations. 

The  two  sides  of  his  nature  warred  like  opposing 
forces.  The  wild  passion  of  Othello  was  in  him.  He 
could  have  snatched  up  the  slender  white-and-gold 
figure,  wrapped  the  shining  jewelled  head  in  the 
trailing  scarf  of  point  lace,  and  rushed  away  with  the 
girl  in  his  arms  —  anywhere,  far  from  these  people 
who  had  no  right  to  be  near  her.  He  could  not  bear 
to  see  the  Maharajah's  eyes  on  her  face  and  on  her 
long  white  throat.  A  hateful  thought  sprang  into 
his  mind  concerning  the  rope  of  Indian  pearls,  with 
ruby  and  emerald  tassels,  tied  loosely  round  her 
neck.  He  wondered  if  the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana 
had  given  it  to  her,  if  she  would  have  accepted 
such  a  gift  from  the  brown  man;  and  the  thought 
seemed  to  take  colour  in  his  brain,  as  if  it  were  a 
bright  scarlet  spot  which  grew  larger  and  redder, 
spreading  behind  his  eyes  till  he  could  see  nothing 
else. 

Vanno  had  told  himself  many  times  that  he  must 
not  draw  too  near  this  girl;  that  for  the  sake  of 
love's  nobility,  for  the  sake  of  his  respect  for  woman- 
hood sacred  in  her  and  in  all  women,  he  must  not 
draw  near  unless  her  soul  were  a  star  behind  the 
eyes  that  were  like  stars.  And  he  had  not  been  able 
to  believe  in  the  stars  for  more  than  a  few  happy, 
exalted  moments,  which  passed  and  came  again, 
only  to  be  blotted  out  once  more. 

But  now,  suddenly,  it  no  longer  mattered  whether 


278     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

he  believed  or  not.  He  had  to  try  and  tear  her  away 
from  the  life  she  was  leading.  He  did  not  know 
which  impulse  was  master  —  the  impulse  to  save  a 
soul,  or  the  impulse  to  possess  selfishly  a  thing 
coveted;  at  least,  to  snatch  it  from  others,  if  he  did 
not  take  it  for  himself. 

As  he  stood  pale  and  quiet  in  the  background, 
Mary  was  accepting  invitations  to  dance;  for  now 
Mrs.  Collis  and  Lottie  had  arrived,  bringing  three 
American  girls  and  a  youthful  American  mother 
from  the  Hotel  Metropole,  where  they  had  gone  to 
stay.  Counting  the  hostess  and  her  daughter,  the 
number  of  women  had  been  swelled  to  a  dozen  by 
these  last  arrivals,  and  dancing  was  to  begin.  The 
younger  men,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, 
struggled  with  each  other  to  engage  partners,  and 
the  smiling  ladies  were  promising  to  split  each  dance 
between  four  partners. 

Mary,  being  the  prettiest  girl  as  well  as  something 
of  a  celebrity,  was  almost  alarmingly  in  request.  She 
was  besieged  by  men  who  begged  her  bodyguard  to 
introduce  them  quickly,  and  laughing  like  a  child 
she  was  busily  giving  away  dances  when  Vanno  came 
forward.  For  a  moment  he  stood  silently  behind  the 
other  men,  taller  than  any,  dark  and  grave,  and  as 
always  mysteriously  reproachful,  as  if  for  some  sin  of 
Mary's  which  she  had  committed  unconsciously. 

She  looked  up,  struck  almost  with  fear  by  the 
contrast  between  his  gravity  and  the  frivolous  gayety 
of  the  others.  But  he  made  all  the  rest  look  puerile, 
and  even  common. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     279 

"Will  you  dance  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  forgetting  to  add  the  polite 
"with  pleasure,"  which  years  ago  had  been  taught 
at  the  convent  as  the  suitable  reply  for  a  debutante 
to  a  prospective  partner. 

"The  third  waltz?" 

"Very  well  —  the  third  waltz,"  she  echoed. 

There  was  no  question  of  splitting  it  up.  No 
man  dared  make  the  suggestion.  Something  in  the 
Roman's  manner  and  Mary's  look  gave  every  one 
the  idea  that  they  knew  each  other  well,  that  no  one 
must  try  to  interfere  between  them. 


XVI 

ALTHOUGH  her  Roman  Prince  had  looked  so  grave, 
Mary  argued  to  herself  that  he  could  hardly  be  angry, 
or  he  would  not  have  asked  her  to  dance.  Yet  she 
half  dreaded,  half  longed  for  the  third  waltz. 

As  a  schoolgirl  she  had  shared  with  Marie  Grant 
the  distinction  of  dancing  more  gracefully  than  any 
other  pupil.  A  girl  who  has  danced  well  and  has 
a  perfect  ear  for  music  does  not  forget;  and  after 
the  first  waltz  on  the  smoothly  waxed  deck  Mary 
felt  as  if  she  had  been  dancing  every  night  for  the 
last  four  years. 

When  the  moment  arrived,  Vanno  came  and  took 
her  away  from  the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana.  He 
did  not  speak  or  smile,  and  they  began  at  once  to 
dance.  Their  steps  went  perfectly  together,  and 
he  held  her  strongly,  though  at  first  he  kept  her  at  an 
unusual  distance.  Then,  as  though  involuntarily, 
he  drew  her  close,  so  that  she  could  feel  his  heart 
beating  like  something  alive,  in  prison,  knocking  to 
come  out,  and  her  own  heart  quickened.  A  slight 
giddiness  made  her  head  spin,  and  she  asked  to  stop 
before  the  music  sobbed  itself  to  sleep. 

"I  have  something  I  want  to  say  to  you,"  Vanno 
began.  "Will  you  come  with  me  where  we  can 
speak  alone,  without  being  interrupted?" 

280 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     281 

"I  —  I  am  engaged  to  four  partners  for  the  next 
dance,"  Mary  stammered,  laughing  a  little.  She 
wished  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say;  she  wished  to 
stay  with  him,  yet  his  voice  made  her  afraid.  And 
it  was  true  that  she  did  not  like  to  break  her 
promise. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  come  with  me,"  Vanno  per- 
sisted. He  did  not  say  that  he  would  not  make  her 
late  for  the  others.  He  meant  to  take  her  away 
from  them  altogether,  if  he  could. 

"Then  —  I  will  come,  for  a  few  minutes,"  she 
consented.  "But  —  where?  " 

"I  will  take  you  on  the  bridge,"  he  said.  "You 
will  not  be  cold,  for  I  know  they've  had  it  roofed 
over  with  flags  for  to-night.  Mrs.  Holbein  told  me. 
There  will  be  room  only  for.  you  and  me,  for  I  shall 
let  no  one  else  come." 

Perhaps  never  before  had  Mary  been  so  torn 
between  two  desires,  except  when  she  wished  to  leave 
the  convent,  yet  longed  to  stay.  Now  she  did 
not  want  to  go  on  the  bridge  with  this  sombre-eyed 
man  who  spoke  as  if  he  were  taking  her  away  from 
the  world :  and  yet  she  did  want  to  go,  far  more  than 
she  wanted  not  to  go.  If  anything  had  happened  at 
this  moment  to  part  them,  all  the  rest  of  her  life  she 
would  have  wondered  what  she  had  missed. 

Mary  knew  nothing  about  the  bridge  of  a  vessel, 
or  what  it  was  for;  but  when  she  had  mounted  some 
steps  she  found  herself  on  a  narrow  parapet  walled 
in  with  canvas  up  to  the  height  of  her  waist.  Above 
her  head  was  a  tight-drawn  canopy  made  of  an 


282     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

enormous  flag;  and  on  the  white  floor,  wedged 
tightly  against  the  canvas  wall,  were  pots  containing 
long  rose-vines  that  made  a  drapery  of  leaves  and 
flowers.  Here  and  there  folds  of  the  great  flag  were 
looped  back  with  wooden  shields,  gilded  and  painted 
with  coats  of  arms  —  the  crest  of  the  Holbeins,  no 
doubt,  invented  to  order  at  great  expense.  These 
loopings  were  like  curtains  which  left  square,  open 
apertures;  and  as  Mary  looked  toward  the  shore 
the  balmy  night  air  brushed  against  her  hot  cheeks 
like  cool  wings. 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  suppose  it's  possible  —  no, 
it  can't  be  possible  that  it  should  be  with  you  as  it 
is  with  me,"  Vanno  said,  in  a  low  voice  which 
sounded  to  her  ears  suppressed  and  strange,  as  if 
he  kept  back  some  secret  passion,  perhaps  anger. 
"Ever  since  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  standing  on 
the  platform  of  the  train  at  Marseilles,  looking  down 
like  Juliet  from  her  balcony,  I  have  felt  as  if  I'd 
known  you  all  my  life,  even  before  this  life  began, 
in  some  other  existence  of  which  you  remain  the  only 
memory:  you,  your  eyes,  your  smile." 

Her  heart  bounded  as  sometimes  the  heart  bounds 
at  night,  in  that  mysterious  break  between  waking 
and  sleeping,  which  is  like  a  Leap,  and  a  fall  over  an 
abyss  without  bottom. 

She  wished  to  hold  his  words  in  her  mind  and 
dwell  upon  them,  as  if  upon  a  suddenly  opened  page 
of  some  marvellous  illuminated  missal  of  priceless 
value.  Conscious  of  no  answer  to  give,  or  need  of 
answer  for  the  moment,  her  subconscious  self  never- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     283 

theless  began  at  once  to  speak,  and  the  rest  of  her 
listened,  startled  at  first,  then  with  wonder  acknowl- 
edging the  truth  of  her  own  admission. 

"Why,  yes,"  the  undertone  in  herself  answered 
Vanno.  "It  was  like  that  with  me,  too,  at  Mar- 
seilles and  afterward  —  as  if  I  had  known  you  al- 
ways, as  if  our  souls  had  been  in  the  same  place 
together  before  they  had  bodies.  When  you  looked 
at  me  first,  I  felt  you  were  like  what  a  picture  of 
Romeo  ought  to  be,  though  I  never  saw  a  picture  of 
Romeo,  that  I  can  remember.  How  strange  you 
should  have  had  Juliet  in  your  mind!  Yet  perhaps 
not  strange,  for  each  may  have  sent  a  thought  into 
the  brain  of  the  other  —  if  such  things  can  be." 

"Such  things  are,"  Vanno  answered,  with  passion. 
"In  the  desert  where  I've  lived  for  months  together, 
alone  except  for  one  friend,  a  man  of  the  East,  or  an 
Arab  servant,  a  voice  used  to  say  when  I  waked 
suddenly  at  night  sometimes,  that  there  was  a 
woman  waiting  for  me,  whose  soul  and  mine  were( 
not  strangers,  and  that  I  should  recognize  her  when 
we  met." 

"It  is  like  a  dream!"  Mary  broke  in  upon  him, 
when  he  paused  as  if  following  a  thought  down  some 
path  in  his  mind.  "As  if  we  were  dreaming  now  — 
to  the  music  down  there.  Maybe  we  are  dreaming. 
What  does  it  all  mean?" 

"It  means  that  when  the  world  was  made  we 
were  made  for  each  other.  But  what  has  happened 
to  us  since?  How  have  we  so  drifted  apart?  I 
think  I  have  been  faithful  to  you  in  my  heart 


284     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

always.  But  you?  You've  wandered  a  million 
miles  away  from  me.  Nothing  told  you  to  wait. 
You  have  not  waited,  or  you  would  not  live  your 
life  as  you  seem  to  be  living  it  —  among  such  men 
and  such  women.  For  God's  sake,  even  if  you  don't 
care  for  me  as  things  are  now  between  us,  let  me  take 
you  away  from  all  this,  let  me  put  you  where  you 
will  be  safe,  where  you  can  be  what  you  were  meant 
to  be." 

"I  —  I  don't  understand,"  Mary  said,  her  breath 
coming  so  quickly  that  her  words  seemed  stopped, 
and  broken  like  water  that  tries  to  run  past  scattered 
stones. 

"Don't  you?  Don't  you  understand  that  I  love 
you  desperately,  that  I  can't  bear  my  life  because  I 
love  you  so,  and  because  I  see  you  drowning?  I'm 
telling  you  this  in  spite  of  myself.  But  I  know  now 
it  had  to  be.  I  swear  to  you,  if  you'll  trust  me,  if 
you'll  come  away  with  me,  you  shan't  repent.  Let 
me  put  you  somewhere  in  a  safe  and  beautiful  place. 
That's  all  I  ask.  I  want  no  more.  I  shall  force  my- 
self to  want  no  more." 

"You  —  love  me?"  Mary  repeated,  still  in  the 
dream  that  was  made  of  music  and  moonlight,  the 
ripple  of  the  sea  and  the  stirring  of  something  new 
in  her  nature  of  which  all  these  sweet  and  beautiful 
things  seemed  part.  "Love!  I  never  thought  this 
could  happen  to  me." 

Suddenly  he  caught  her  hands  and  held  them  so 
that  she  was  forced  to  turn  and  look  at  him,  instead 
of  gazing  out  at  sea  and  moonlight. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     285 

"Does  it  mean  anything  to  you?"  he  asked,  al- 
most fiercely. 

"Oh,  a  great  deal,"  she  answered.  "I  hardly 
know  how  much  yet.  It  is  so  wonderful  —  so  new. 
Yet  somehow  not  new.  I  must  think  about  it.  I 
must  -  " 

It  was  on  her  lips  to  say  "I  must  pray  about  it," 
but  something  stopped  her.  He  was  strange  to  her 
still,  in  spite  of  the  miracle  that  was  happening,  and 
there  were  some  thoughts  which  must  be  kept  in  the 
heart,  in  silence.  Perhaps  if  she  had  not  kept  back 
those  words,  much  of  the  future  might  have  been 
different,  for  he  must  have  guessed  at  once  that,  if 
she  were  sincere,  his  thoughts  of  her  had  been  false 
thoughts. 

"Don't  stop  to  think.  Promise  me  now,"  he  cut 
her  short. 

The  note  of  insistence  in  his  voice  frightened 
her,  and  seemed  to  break  the  music  of  the  dream. 
"I  can't  promise!"  she  exclaimed.  "I've  never 
wanted  to  marry.  It  never  seemed  possible. 


Something  like  a  groan  was  forced  from  him. 
She  broke  off,  drawing  in  her  breath  sharply.  "What 
is  the  matter?"  she  asked.  "Are  you  suffering?" 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "I  am  suffering.  It's  my  fault, 
for  not  making  you  understand,  and  yours  because 
you  haven't  let  me  believe  in  you,  worship  you  as 
the  angel  you  were  meant  to  be.  I  don't  know  what 
you  are,  but  whatever  you  are  I  love  you  with  all 
there  is  of  me.  Only  —  what  I  asked  was  —  that 


286     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

you'd  let  me  take  you  out  of  this  life  to  something 
better.  Now  don't  misunderstand  in  another  way! 
I'd  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  wrong  you. 
I  ask  nothing  from  you  for  myself.  When  I  knew 
that  you  were  safe  I'd  go,  and  not  even  see  you 
again,  unless  —  but  how  can  I  explain  that  I  mean 
only  good  for  you,  with  no  evil  or  selfishness,  yet 
not  marriage?" 

"Not  marriage!" 

Mary  wrenched  her  hands  away,  and  stepped  back 
from  him.  There  were  men,  she  knew,  who  loved 
women  but  did  not  marry  them.  She  had  learned 
this  thing  through  the  tragedy  of  her  schoolmate, 
her  friend,  whose  life  had  been  swallowed  up  in 
mystery  and  darkness  because  men  could  be  vile 
and  treacherous,  taking  everything  and  giving 
nothing.  No  one  save  himself  could  have  made  her 
believe  that  this  deep-eyed  Prince  was  such  a  man. 

After  all,  the  light  in  which  she  had  seen  their 
souls  together  in  the  beginning  of  things  had  been  a 
false  light.  She  had  never  known  his  soul,  for  what 
she  thought  she  knew  had  been  very  noble  and 
splendid,  and  the  reality  was  bad.  It  was  as  if  she 
had  begun  to  open  the  door  of  her  heart,  to  let  in  a 
white  dove,  and  peeping  out  had  seen  instead  a 
vulture.  She  slammed  the  door  shut;  and  the  sweet 
new  thing  that  had  stirred  in  the  depths  of  her 
nature  fell  back  asleep  or  dead. 

"I'm  going  down  now,"  she  said,  in  a  toneless 
voice.  "Don't  come  with  me.  I  never  want  to 
speak  to  you  again." 


CAN'T  PROMISE!'  SHE  EXCLAIMED.     'I'VE  NEVER 
WANTED  TO  MARRY  '  " 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     287 

She  turned  away  with  an  abrupt  mechanical  move- 
ment like  a  doll  wound  up  to  walk,  but  he  snatched 
the  lace  scarf  that  was  wrapped  round  her  arm,  and 
held  her  back  for  an  instant. 

"I  implore  you "  he  begged.  Her  answer 

was  to  drop  the  scarf,  and  leave  it  in  his  hands.  She 
seemed  to  melt  from  his  grasp  like  a  snow  wreath; 
and  not  daring  to  follow  then,  he  was  left  alone  on 
the  bridge  with  the  black  and  horrible  ghost  of  his 
own  mistake. 


xvn 

MARY'S  one  thought  was  to  escape  and  hide 
herself  from  every  one.  She  felt  as  fastidious  women 
feel  after  a  journey  through  miles  of  thick  black  dust, 
when  they  cannot  bear  to  have  their  faces  seen  with 
the  disfiguring  stains  of  travel  upon  them.  But  she 
had  to  go  back  to  the  deck  where  people  were  danc- 
ing, before  she  could  find  her  way  to  any  hiding 
place;  and  even  then  she  did  not  know  how  she  should 
contrive  to  leave  the  yacht  without  answering  ques- 
tions and  fighting  objections. 

She  was  thankful  to  find  Captain  Hannaford  not 
dancing,  and  standing  near  the  foot  of  the  steps  she 
had  just  descended.  He  was  some  one  she  knew,  at 
least,  some  one  whose  calm  manner  made  him  seem 
dependable.  Then,  too,  the  physical  affliction  which 
repelled  her,  in  making  him  appear  remote  from  the 
world  of  fortunate  men,  almost  attracted  her  at  this 
moment.  Standing  there  as  if  waiting  for  her,  very 
quiet,  apparently  quite  unemotional,  he  was  like  a 
lifeboat  in  a  merciless  sea.  She  snatched  at  the  help 
he  silently  offered. 

"I  feel  ill,"  she  said,  chokingly.  "Do  you  think 
I  could  get  away  without  any  one  noticing?  I  want 
to  go  home." 

Instinctively  she  was  sure  that  she  might  count 

288 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     289 

» 

upon  him  to  serve  her,  that  he  would  rather  do  so 
than  stay  and  watch  the  dancing,  for  he  himself  did 
not  dance. 

"Come  along,"  he  said,  with  the  calmness  which 
was  never  ruffled.  "People  will  think  you're  en- 
gaged to  sit  out  this  dance  with  me.  Get  your 
wraps,  and  I'll  see  that  the  launch  is  ready  to  take 
you  across  to  the  slip." 

The  ladies'  dressing-room  was  below.  One  of  the 
largest  and  finest  of  the  staterooms  had  been  set 
apart  for  that  purpose;  but  there  were  so  few  cloaks 
that  Mary  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  hers,  half- 
dazed  as  she  was.  To  her  relief,  Captain  Hanna- 
ford  was  waiting  for  her  not  far  from  the  door  when 
she  came  out. 

"I  thought  as  you're  seedy  you  mightn't  be  able 
to  find  the  way  alone,"  he  said.  "It's  all  right  about 
the  launch." 

Five  minutes  later  she  was  being  carried  toward 
the  shore,  the  explosive  throbbing  of  the  engine 
sending  stabs  of  pain  through  her  temples.  Beside 
her  sat  Hannaf ord ;  silent,  his  arms  folded,  his  black 
bandaged  face  turned  away  from  her.  He  had  a 
habit,  when  he  could,  of  seating  himself  so  that  the 
unscarred  side  of  his  head  was  in  sight  of  the  person 
next  him;  but  to-night  he  had  not  done  this  with 
Mary.  He  knew  that  she  would  be  blind  not  only 
to  his  defects,  but  to  his  existence,  if  he  did  not 
irritate  her  by  trying  to  attract  attention. 

Neither  spoke  a  word  during  the  few  moments  of 
transit,  and  Mary  gazed  always  toward  land,  as  if 


290      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

she  did  not  wish  to  see  the  great  lighted  yacht  which 
illuminated  the  whole  harbour.  It  had  not  oc- 
curred to  her  that  she  ought  to  say,  "Don't  trouble 
to  come  with  me.  I  shall  do  very  well  alone."  She 
took  it  for  granted  not  only  that  he  would  come,  but 
that  he  would  be  glad  to  come;  and  there  was  no 
conceit  in  this  tacit  assumption.  It  was  borne  in 
upon  her  mind  from  his,  as  if  by  an  assurance. 

When  the  motor  launch  had  landed  them  upon 
the  slip,  and  puffed  fussily  away  again,  Hannaford 
steadied  Mary's  steps  with  a  hand  on  her  arm.  It 
was  not  until  they  were  on  the  pavement,  and  facing 
up  the  hill  that  leads  from  the  Condamine  to  higher 
Monte  Carlo,  that  she  spoke.  "Oh,  I  ought  to  have 
left  word  for  Lady  Dauntrey!"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  thought  of  that,"  Hannaford  quietly  answered. 
**  I  wrote  on  a  card  that  you  had  a  headache  and  I  was 
taking  you  home." 

"Thank  you,"  Mary  said,  mechanically.  As  soon 
.as  she  had  heard  the  words  she  forgot  them,  and  let 
lier  thoughts  rush  back  to  the  arena  of  their  martyr- 
dom. Hannaford  took  her  hand  and  laid  it  on  his 
arm.  She  allowed  it  to  rest  there,  depending  un- 
consciously on  the  support  he  gave.  They  did  not 
speak  again  until  they  had  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill,  turned  the  corner,  and  arrived  at  the  steps  of 
the  Hotel  de  Paris. 

Because  Lady  Dauntrey  had  chosen  to  make  a 
late  entrance  on  the  scene,  it  was  after  midnight  now, 
though  Mary  and  Hannaford  had  come  away  com- 
paratively early  from  the  dance.  The  Casino  was 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     291 

shut,  but  Christmas  eve  festivities  were  going  on  in 
the  restaurant,  as  well  as  in  the  brilliantly  lit  Moorish 
Cafe  de  Paris  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Place. 
Mary's  longing  for  peace  and  quiet  in  "  coming  home" 
was  jarred  out  of  her  mind  by  the  gay  music  and 
lights,  and  sounds  of  distant  laughter  which  seemed 
to  have  followed  her  mockingly  from  the  yacht.  But 
they  brought  her  out  of  herself;  and  standing  on  the 
lowest  step  she  thanked  Hannaford  for  all  that  he 
had  done. 

"You  know  I've  done  nothing,"  he  said.  "I 
wish  there  were  something  I  really  could  do  for  you. 
Isn't  there?  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  an  English 
doctor  prescribe  for  your  headache?  I  know  a 
splendid  one.  He'd  cure  you  in  an  hour." 

"I  must  try  to  cure  myself,"  Mary  said.  "I 
shall  be  better  soon.  I  must  be!  There's  noth- 
ing more  you  can  do,  thank  you  very  much.  Un- 
less  " 

"Unless  what?"  He  caught  her  up  more  quickly 
than  he  usually  spoke. 

"Now  I've  come  back,  I  can  hardly  bear  to  go 
indoors  after  all.  I  feel  as  if  I  couldn't  breathe  in  a 
warm  room,  with  curtains  over  the  windows.  Would 
you  take  me  on  the  terrace?  I  think  I  should  like 
just  to  sit  on  one  of  the  seats  there  for  a  few  minutes; 
and  afterward  maybe  I  shall  be  more  ready  to  go 
in." 

"Come,  then,"  was  the  brief  answer  that  was 
somehow  comforting  to  Mary.  She  began  con- 
sciously to  realize  that  this  man's  calm  presence 


292     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

helped  her.  She  was  grateful,  and  at  the  same  time 
smitten  with  remorse  for  the  faint  physical  repulsion 
against  him  she  had  never  until  now  quite  lost.  At 
this  moment  she  believed  that  it  was  entirely  gone, 
and  could  never  return ;  but  she  felt  that  she  ought  to 
atone  in  some  way  because  it  had  once  existed.  She 
took  his  arm  again,  of  her  own  accord,  and  leaned 
on  it  with  a  touch  that  expressed  what  she  dimly 
meant  to  express  —  confidence  in  him. 

They  went  down  the  flight  of  steps  at  the  end  of 
the  Casino,  and  so  to  the  terrace,  which  was  com- 
pletely deserted,  as  Mary  had  hoped  it  would  be. 
Here,  away  from  the  golden  lights  of  hotel  and  cafe 
windows,  the  moon  had  full  power,  a  round  white 
moon  that  flooded  the  night  with  silver. 

They  turned  to  walk  along  the  terrace-front  of  the 
Casino,  facing  toward  Italy,  and  away  from  the 
harbour  half  girdled  by  the  Rock  of  Hercules.  They 
could  not  see  the  yacht,  but  the  great  illuminated 
shape  rode  in  Mary's  thoughts  as  it  rode  on  the 
water.  She  knew  that  in  coming  back  along  this 
way  she  would  have  to  see  the  harbour,  and  White 
Lady  blazing  with  light,  pulsing  with  music.  Just 
yet  she  could  not  bear  that,  and  when  they  came  near 
the  eastern  end  of  the  terrace  she  said  that  she  would 
sit  down  on  one  of  the  seats. 

The  moonlight  had  seemed  exquisite  as  an  angel's 
blessing  when  she  looked  out  between  the  flags  and 
rose  branches,  drinking  in  the  words  "I  love  you," 
as  a  flower  drinks  in  dew.  Now  the  pale  radiance 
on  the  mountains  was  to  Mary's  eyes  wicked,  wicked 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     293 

as  a  white  witch  fallen  from  her  broomstick.  All  the 
world  was  wicked  in  its  weary  pallor;  and  the  dark 
windows  of  far-off,  moon-bleached  villas  were  like 
staring  eyeballs  in  gigantic  skulls. 

She  had  not  meant  to  talk,  but  suddenly  the  fire 

within  her  flamed  into  words.     "What  have  I  done 

-  what  do  I  do  —  that  could  make  people  think  I 

am  —  not  good?  —  make  them  think  they  have  a 

right  to  insult  me?" 

"Nobody  has  a  right  to  think  that,"  Hannaford 
answered,  quietly  as  always.  "If  any  man  has  in- 
sulted you,  tell  me,  and  I'll  make  him  sorry." 

"I  —  there  is  nothing  to  tell,"  she  stammered, 
frightened  back  into  reticence.  "It's  only  —  an 
idea  that  came  into  my  head  because  of  —  some- 
thing I  can't  explain.  But,  oh,  do  be  honest  with 
me,  Captain  Hannaford,  if  you  are  my  friend,  for 
I  can  never  ask  any  one  else,  and  I  can  never  ask 
you  again.  It's  just  asking  itself  now,  this  question, 
for  I  want  an  answer  so  much.  Is  there  anything 
very  different  about  me,  and  the  way  I  behave,  from 
other  girls  or  women  —  those  who  try  to  be  good  and 
nice,  I  mean?" 

It  was  a  strange  appeal,  and  went  to  the  man's 
heart.  If  Mary  had  puzzled  him  once,  and  if  at  first 
he  had  thought  cynically  of  her,  as  he  thought  of 
most  pretty  women  he  met,  love  had  washed  away 
those  thoughts  many  days  ago:  and  in  this  moment 
when  she  turned  to  him  for  help  he  wondered  how  it 
was  that  he  had  ever  been  puzzled.  He  saw  clearly 
now  into  the  heart  of  the  mystery,  and  it  was  a 


294     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

heart  of  pure  rose  and  gold,  like  the  heart   of  an 
altar  fire. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  said,  "before  I  answer  that, 
and  let  me  ask  you  a  question.  Did  you  ever  hear 
the  story  or  see  the  play  of  Galatea?" 

"No.  Not  that  I  remember.  What  has  it  to  do 
with  me?" 

"I'll  tell  you  about  her,  and  then  maybe  you'll 
see.  The  story  is  that  a  Greek  sculptor  made  a 
beautiful  statue  which  he  worshipped  so  desperately 
that  the  gods  turned  it  into  a  living  girl.  Well,  you 
can  imagine  just  how  much  that  girl  knew  about 
life,  can't  you?  She  looked  grown  up,  and  was 
dressed  like  other  young  women  of  her  day,  but  any 
kitten  with  its  eyes  open  was  better  equipped  for 
business  than  she,  for  kittens  have  claws  and  Galatea 
hadn't.  Naturally  she  made  some  queer  mistakes, 
and  because  a  rather  beastly  world  was  slow  to 
understand  perfect  innocence  —  the  pre-serpentine 
innocence  of  Eve,  so  to  speak  —  a  lot  of  injustice 
was  done  to  the  poor  little  statue  come  alive.  Some 
of  the  people  wouldn't  believe  that  she'd  ever  been 
a  statue  at  all." 

"I  see!"  exclaimed  Mary,  sharply.  Then  she 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  thinking;  but  at  last  she 
put  a  sudden  question:  "What  happened  to  Gal- 
atea?" 

"Oh,  the  poor  girl  was  so  disgusted  with  the  world 
that  she  went  back  to  being  a  statue  again  eventually. 
I  think  myself  it  was  rather  weak  of  her,  and  that  if 
she'd  waited  a  bit  she  might  have  done  better." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     295 

"I'm  not  sure,"  Mary  said,  slowly.  "To-night  I 
feel  as  if  there  was  nothing  better  —  than  going  back 
and  being  a  statue." 

"You  won't  feel  like  that  to-morrow.  The  sun 
brings  courage.  I  know  —  by  experience.  You 
think,  Miss  Grant,  for  some  reason  or  other  —  I 
don't  even  want  you  to  tell  me  what,  unless  it  would 
do  you  good  to  tell  —  that  you're  down  in  the 
depths.  But  you're  not.  You  never  can  be. 
Where  you  are  it  will  always  be  light,  really." 

"What  makes  you  believe  I  am  good,  if  others 
don't  believe  it?"  She  turned  on  him  with  the 
question,  the  moon  carving  her  features  in  marble 
purity,  as  if  Galatea  were  already  freezing  again  into 
the  coldness  of  a  statue.  The  whole  effect  of  her, 
in  the  long  white  cloak  with  its  hood  pulled  over  the 
shining  hair,  was  spiritual  and  unearthly.  Hanna- 
ford  would  have  given  his  life  for  her,  happily,  just 
then. 

"I  don't  know  what  others  believe,"  he  said.  "I 
have  seen  for  a  long  time  now,  almost  since  the  first, 
that  you  were  a  very  innocent  sort  of  girl  enjoying 
yourself  in  a  new  way,  and  losing  your  head  over  it 
a  little.  Perhaps  because  I've  been  down  in  the 
depths  we  talked  about,  and  look  on  life  differently 
from  what  I  did  before,  I  may  have  clearer  sight.  I 
don't  know  what  you  did  or  were  until  you  came 
here,  but  I've  realized  to-night  all  of  a  sudden  that 
you  are  absolutely  a  child.  There  is  no  worldly 
knowledge  in  you.  You're  what  I  said.  You're 
Galatea." 


296     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You  see  this,  without  any  telling,"  she  cried. 

"And  yet "  She  bit  her  lip  and  kept  back  the 

words  that  would  have  rushed  out,  to  shame  her. 
But  he  knew  with  the  unerring  knowledge  of  one 
who  loves,  that  she  had  nearly  added:  "And  yet 
the  one  man  who  ought  to  understand  me,  does  not. 
It  is  only  you." 

It  was  a  bitter  knowledge,  but  he  faced  it,  hating 
the  other  man,  who  had  hurt  and  did  not  deserve 
her.  But  he  did  not  guess  that  the  man  was  Prince 
Vanno  Delia  Robbia.  He  had  not  heard  Vanno 
almost  commanding  Mary  to  dance  with  him,  and 
had  not  seen  them  go  up  on  the  bridge  together. 
Hannaford  was  not  even  aware  that  they  knew  each 
other.  The  man  in  his  mind  was  Dick  Carleton,  or 
possibly  the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana,  whom  some 
women  found  strangely  attractive. 

"I  should  like  to  be  the  one  to  make  all  others 
see  —  any  fools  or  brutes  who  don't,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  want  anybody  made  to  see." 

"Of  course  you  don't.  Well,  there  isn't  one  any- 
where about  worthy  to  think  of  you  at  all  —  not  a 
man  Jack  of  us  —  including  me." 

"And  yet,"  Mary  said,  almost  pitifully,  "I  have 
liked  men  to  think  about  me!  It's  been  so  new,  and 
interesting.  What  harm  have  men  done  me,  that  I 
should  avoid  them,  just  because  they  are  men? 
Are  they  all  so  much  worse  than  women,  I  wonder? 
Oughtn't  we  to  be  nice  and  sweet  to  them?  It  would 
seem  so  ungrateful  to  be  cold,  because  they  are  so 
very,  very  kind  to  us.  At  least,  that  is  what  I  felt 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     297 

till  now  —  I  mean  till  quite  lately.  Men  interested 
me,  because  they  seemed  rather  mysterious,  so 
different  from  us;  and  I  wanted  to  find  out  what 
they  were  really  like,  for  I've  been  with  women  all 
my  life.  I  wish  now  —  that  is,  I  hope  I  haven't 
behaved  in  ways  to  make  people  misunderstand?" 

"Only  fools,  as  I  said  before." 

"But  —  what  have  I  done  to  make  the  fools  mis- 
understand? You  must  tell  me!" 

"Nothing  serious.  Only  —  well,  you  have  gone 
about  with  a  queer  lot  sometimes." 

"Men  or  women?" 

"Madame  d'Ambre,  for  instance." 

"Yes;  but  I  haven't  talked  to  her  for  a  long  time 
now." 

"You've  talked  to  others  like  her,  and  — 
worse." 

"Would  you  have  me  be  cruel?  If  some  of  the 
poor,  pretty  creatures  here  aren't  quite  what  they 
ought  to  be,  because  they've  been  badly  brought 
up  or  unfortunate,  would  you  think  it  right  and 
womanly  not  to  answer  when  they  speak,  or  to 
turn  one's  back  on  them,  or  slam  the  Casino  door 
in  their  faces,  as  some  cross-looking  people  do? 
Wouldn't  that  drive  them  to  being  worse?" 

It  was  difficult  to  answer  this  question  with  due 
regard  to  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  and  at  the  same 
time  give  Galatea  a  lesson  in  social  decorum.  "I 
suppose,"  he  said  slowly,  "you'll  just  have  to  follow 
your  star." 

"I  don't  see  any  star  now  worth  following.     Oh, 


298     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Captain  Hannaford,  I  was  so  happy!  It  was  such  a 
beautiful,  lovely  world  till  to-night!  Now  I  feel  as 
if  joy  and  luck  were  both  gone." 

"Does  it  comfort  you  a  little  to  know  that  here's 
one  man  who'd  do  anything  for  you?"  he  asked 
"  There  never  was  such  a  friend  as  I'll  try  to  be,  if 
you'll  have  me." 

"Thank  you,"  Mary  answered.  "I  shall  be  very 
glad  of  your  friendship.  I  shall  feel  and  remember 
it  wherever  I  go." 

"Wherever  you  go?     You  mean 

"Yes.  I  think  I  must  go  away  —  go  on  to 
Italy." 

"If  somebody  has  hurt  you,  don't  go  yet,"  Hanna- 
ford urged.  "It  would  look  as  if  —  well,  as  if  you 
felt  too  much.  Don't  you  see?" 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  give  that  impression,"  she 
said,  almost  primly.  Then,  with  a  change  of  tone, 
"But  I  can't  —  I  won't  stay  at  the  hotel  where  I  am. 
To-night  at  her  house  Lady  Dauntrey  invited  me  to 
come  and  stay  there.  I  was  asked  before,  to  Christ- 
mas dinner.  I  could  accept,  I  suppose?" 

"Hm!"  Hannaford  grumbled,  frowning.  But 
he  thought  quickly,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  per- 
haps even  Lady  Dauntrey's  chaperonage  might  be 
better  than  none.  There  was  nothing  against  the 
woman,  as  far  as  he  knew,  except  that  she  white- 
washed her  face  and  had  strange  eyes.  The  rich 
Mrs.  Ernstein,  who  was  staying  at  the  Villa  Bella 
Vista,  was  undoubtedly  —  even  dully  —  respecta- 
ble, if  common.  Neither  was  there  any  real  harm 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     299 

in  Miss  Wardropp;  and  poor  Dauntrey  did  not  seem 
to  be  a  bad  fellow  at  heart. 

"It's  not  ideal  there,  I'm  afraid,"  Hannaford  said 
at  last,  "but  for  lack  of  a  better  refuge  it  might  do." 

Mary  felt  suddenly  as  if  some  very  little  thing  far 
down  in  herself  was  struggling  blindly  to  escape,  as 
a  fly  struggles  to  escape  when  a  glass  tumbler  has 
been  shut  over  it  on  a  table.  She  drew  in  a  long, 
deep  breath. 

"I'll  leave  the  Hotel  de  Paris  to-morrow,"  she 
said,  as  if  to  settle  the  matter  with  herself  once  and 
for  all.  "And  I'll  go  and  stay  at  Lady  Dauntrey's." 

Almost  unconsciously  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
old  hill  town  of  Roquebrune,  asleep  under  the  square 
height  of  its  ruined  castle,  which  the  moon  streaked 
with  silver.  All  the  little  firefly  lights  of  the  village 
had  died  out  except  one,  which  still  shone  "like  a 
good  deed  in  a  naughty  world." 

"It  is  perhaps  the  cure's  light,"  Mary  thought; 
and  told  herself  that  as  he  was  a  friend  of  the  Prince, 
she  would  never  dare  to  go  and  see  him  now. 


XVIII 

VANNO  stood  without  moving  for  some  minutes, 
when  Mary  had  gone.  She  had  forbidden  him  to 
follow,  but  it  was  not  her  command  which  held  him 
back.  It  was  the  command  laid  upon  him  by  him- 
self. In  a  light  merciless  as  the  crude  glare  of 
electricity  he  saw  himself  standing  stricken,  a  fool 
who  had  done  an  unforgivable  thing,  a  clumsy  and 
brutal  wretch  who  had  broken  a  crystal  vase  in  a 
sanctuary.  For  the  blinding  light  showed  him  a 
new  image  of  Mary,  even  as  she  had  suddenly  re- 
vealed herself  to  Hannaford:  a  perfectly  innocent 
creature  whose  ways  were  strange  as  a  dryad's  way 
would  be  strange  if  transplanted  from  her  forests 
into  the  most  sophisticated  colony  in  Europe. 

Something  in  Vanno  which  knew,  because  it  felt, 
had  always  pronounced  her  guiltless;  but  all  of  him 
that  was  modern  and  worldly  had  told  him  to  dis- 
trust her.  Now  he  was  like  a  judge  who  has  con- 
demned a  prisoner  on  circumstantial  evidence,  to 
find  out  the  victim's  innocence  after  the  execution. 

Standing  there  on  the  bridge,  the  dance-music 
troubled  the  current  of  his  thoughts,  rising  to  the 
surface  of  his  mind,  though  he  heard  it  without 
listening,  like  the  teasing  bubbles  of  a  spring  through 
deep  water.  Though  he  tried,  he  could  not  fully 

300 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     301 

analyze  his  own  feelings;  yet  he  was  sharply  con- 
scious of  those  two  conflicting  sides  of  his  nature 
which  Angelo  saw,  and  he  could  almost  hear  them 
arguing  together.  The  part  of  him  that  was  aris- 
tocrat and  ascetic  excused  itself,  asking  what  he 
could  have  done,  better  than  he  had  done?  Had  he 
not  broken  his  resolve  for  a  good  motive  and  for  the 
girl's  sake,  not  his  own?  Had  he  begged  anything  of 
her  for  himself?  Ought  she  not  to  have  understood 
that  though  he  loved  her,  he  could  not  ask  her  to 
be  his  wife  unless  or  until  she  could  prove  herself 
worthy  —  not  of  him  —  but  of  a  name]and  of  tradi- 
tions honoured  in  history?  Ought  she  not  to  have 
trusted  him,  and  seen  that  he  was  resisting  tempta- 
tion, not  yielding  to  it,  when  he  implored  her  to  take 
his  help  and  friendship? 

Already  Angelo  had  disappointed  their  father, 
by  marrying  a  girl  of  whom  no  one  knew  anything 
except  her  beauty  and  talent  as  an  artist.  Marie 
Gaunt  had  come  to  Rome  to  paint  the  portrait  of  a 
fashionable  woman;  had  been  "taken  up"  by  other 
mondaines;  and  Angelo,  meeting  her  at  a  dinner,  had 
fallen  in  love  with  and  followed  her  to  Dresden, 
where  she  lived  and  had  made  her  reputation  as  an 
artist.  In  spite  of  the  Duke's  objections  they  had 
married;  and  Vanno,  who  was  his  father's  favourite, 
surely  owed  some  duty  to  the  old  man  who  loved 
him.  At  worst,  Marie  Gaunt  the  artist  had  in  no 
way  laid  herself  open  to  gossip.  According  to  what 
friends  had  written  from  Rome,  she  was  more  than 
discreet,  demure  as  a  Puritan  maiden,  and  the 


302     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

elderly  chaperon  who  travelled  with  her  was  a 
dragon  of  virtue.  With  this  girl  whom  Vanno  had 
met  at  Monte  Carlo  it  was  different.  She  was  not 
discreet.  Whatever  else  she  might  be,  she  was  not 
Puritan.  She  was  gossiped  about  on  all  sides,  and 
gayly  fed  the  fire  of  gossip  by  appearing  in  startling 
dresses,  by  doing  startling  things,  and  picking  up 
extraordinary  acquaintances.  Even  as  far  away  as 
Mentone  and  Nice  she  was  talked  about.  Two 
women  had  started  some  story  about  her  travelling 
to  Paris  with  a  French  artist;  and  the  man  himself, 
who  had  arrived  since,  had  made  a  fool  of  himself 
at  the  Casino,  and  apparently  tried  to  blackmail  her. 
She  was  said  to  have  given  him  money.  No  love, 
no  matter  how  great,  could  justify  Prince  Giovanni 
Delia  Robbia  in  making  such  a  girl  his  wife  while 
uncertain  of  the  truth  which  underlay  her  amazing 
eccentricities,  and  the  gossip  which  followed  her 
everywhere,  like  a  dog  that  barked  at  her  heels. 

This  was  what  one  side  of  him  protested  anxiously 
to  the  other  side,  which  in  turn  raged  against  it  and 
its  cold  plausibilities.  The  side  which  was  all  pas- 
sion and  romance  and  high  chivalry  lashed  its 
enemy  with  contempt,  and  evil  epithets  of  which 
the  hardest  to  bear  was  "prig."  For  no  man  can 
endure  being  thought  a  prig,  even  by  himself. 

"You,  who  said  that  her  soul  was  meant  for  yours, 
and  the  next  moment  distrusted  it!"  he  reproached 
himself  in  bitterness.  "What  a  fool  —  what  a 
hypocrite!  If  you've  known  her  since  the  beginning 
of  things,  you  should  have  known  by  instinct  what 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES    303 

she  was,  down  under  the  surface  frivolities  and  fool- 
ishnesses, mistakes  any  untaught  girl  might  make." 

This  Vanno,  who  was  all  man  and  not  prince,  said 
that  no  punishment  could  be  too  severe  for  one  who 
doubts  where  he  loves.  He  saw  himself  justly 
punished  now,  by  learning  Mary's  truth  through  her 
noble  indignation.  Because  he  had  waited  for  this 
proof  he  acknowledged  that  he  had  sinned  beyond 
most  women's  pardon;  yet  he  meant  to  win  hers. 
He  cared  more  for  her  than  before,  and  determined 
that  he  would  never  give  her  up ;  yet  all  the  while 
that  other,  worldly  Vanno,  who  was  prince  as  well 
as  man,  held  stiffly  back.  How  could  one  whose 
small  knowledge  of  women  good  and  bad  came 
mostly  through  hearsay  be  sure  of  a  woman? 

His  one  boyish  venture  in  love  he  saw  now  had 
been  in  shallow  water;  but  it  had  not  tended  to 
strengthen  his  faith  in  the  innate  nobility  of  women. 
On  the  contrary,  it  had  shown  him  that  a  woman 
who  seemed  sweet  and  loving  could  be  hard  and 
calculating,  even  mercenary.  Innocence  being  a 
charming  pose,  why  should  it  not  be  adopted  by  the 
cleverest  actresses,  professional  sirens,  specialists 
in  enchantment,  who  wished  to  be  admired  by  all 
men,  even  men  for  whom  they  cared  nothing?  How 
could  he  tell  even  now  that  this  girl  was  not  a 
clever  actress  who  judged  him  well  and  planned  to 
lead  him  on? 

So  he  asked  himself  questions,  and  answered  in 
rage,  only  to  begin  again,  fiercely  breaking  down  one 
set  of  arguments  and  building  up  another. 


304     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

It  was  the  arrival  of  Dodo  Wardropp  with  Dom 
Ferdinand  on  the  bridge  which  drove  him  away  and 
out  of  himself  sufficiently  to  bid  his  host  and  hostess 
good-night. 

When  the  motor  launch  had  taken  him  ashore,  the 
impulse  was  very  strong  in  him  to  go  up  to  Roque- 
brune  and  tell  the  cure  what  had  happened.  He 
knew  that  his  friend  kept  a  light  burning  all  night 
in  a  window,  and  he  could  see  it,  as  Mary  had  seen  it, 
sending  out  its  message  for  any  who  needed  help. 
Yet  what  good  could  come  of  talking  to  one  who  had 
never  met  the  girl?  Fate  had  kept  the  two  apart, 
for  some  reason,  and  Vanno  could  but  consult  his 
own  heart.  Its  counsel  was  to  write  to  Mary,  ex- 
plaining all  those  things  that  she  had  not  let  him 
explain  in  words. 

This  matter  of  explanation  seemed  easier  than  it 
proved.  Letter  after  letter  had  to  be  torn  up  be- 
fore Vanno  was  able  to  express  on  paper  anything 
at  all  which  she  might  understand,  which  might 
soften  her  to  forgiveness.  Even  then  he  was  dis- 
satisfied; but  something  had  to  stand,  something 
had  to  go.  "Write  me  at  least  one  line,"  he  ended, 
"if  only  to  say  that  you  know  I  did  not  mean  to 
insult  you,  in  the  way  you  thought  when  you  left 
me." 

Mary  was  still  "MGiss  M.  Grant"  to  him,  and  so 
he  addressed  his  letter.  Dawn  had  put  the  stars 
to  sleep  when  he  sealed  the  envelope,  and  he  had  to 
wait  for  a  reasonable  hour  before  sending  to  her 
room;  but  he  did  not  go  to  bed,  or  try  to  sleep. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     305 

"Christmas!'*  he  said  to  himself,  aloud.  "The 
day  of  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  toward  men. 
If  she  remembers,  can  she  refuse  to  forgive  me?" 

At  half -past  eight  he  thought  it  might  be  taken  for 
granted  that  she  was  awake.  "Don't  ask  for  an 
answer,"  he  told  the  young  waiter  to  whom  he  gave 
his  sealed  envelope,  and  the  lace  scarf  which  Mary 
had  left  in  his  hands.  "Say  only  that  you're  not 
sure  whether  there  is  an  answer  or  not,  and  you 
will  wait  to  see." 

Vanno  had  hoped  the  servant  might  be  away  a 
long  time,  as  delay  would  mean  that  Mary  was  tak- 
ing time  to  think,  and  writing  a  reply.  But  in  less 
than  ten  minutes  the  man  was  at  the  door  again. 

"The  lady  was  in,  and  when  I  gave  her  the  scarf 
and  letter,  asked  me  who  had  sent  them,"  was  the 
report.  "I  told  her  it  was  his  Highness  the  Roman 
Prince,  staying  in  the  hotel.  Then  she  said,  *This 
scarf  is  mine,  but  the  letter  must  have  been  sent 
by  mistake,  as  I  do  not  know  his  Highness/  So  I 
have  brought  it  back,  as  the  lady  desired.  I  hope 
I  have  done  right?" 

"Quite  right,  thank  you,"  Vanno  returned  me- 
chanically, and  took  his  own  letter.  His  ears 
tingled  as  though  Mary's  little  fingers  had  boxed 
them.  If  she  had  but  known,  she  was  more  than 
revenged  upon  him  for  the  snub  which  had  clouded 
her  first  dinner  in  the  restaurant  of  the  Hotel  de 
Paris. 

For  a  moment  Vanno  was  intensely  angry,  be- 
cause she  had  dared  to  humiliate  him  in  the  eyes  of 


306     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

a  servant;  but  by  and  by,  when  his  ears  stopped 
tingling,  he  told  himself  that  he  deserved  even  this. 
He  respected  her  all  the  more,  and  no  longer  feared 
that  she  might  be  a  clever  actress  trying  to  lead 
him  on.  A  woman  who  wished  to  attract  a  man 
would  not  use  so  sharp  a  weapon. 

Still,  Vanno  had  no  thought  of  giving  up.  If  she 
would  not  read  his  explanation  she  must  hear  it,  and 
justify  him  in  one  way,  even  if  she  would  not  forgive. 
He  hoped  to  see  her  at  luncheon  time,  but  she  did 
not  come  into  the  restaurant.  Again,  at  dinner  she 
was  absent.  A  merry  little  Christmas  party  of  four 
sat  at  her  table:  an  English  duke  and  duchess,  a 
great  Russian  dancer,  a  general  of  world- wide  fame. 

"Where  is  the  lady  who  usually  sits  opposite?" 
he  asked  of  his  waiter,  draining  his  voice  of  all  ex- 
pression. "Is  she  away  for  Christmas?' 

"She  is  away  altogether,"  answered  the  waiter. 
"She  left  before  luncheon." 

"Left  altogether  —  left  before  luncheon!"  Vanno 
echoed,  almost  stupidly,  forgetting  to  appear  in- 
different. 

"I  believe  she  is  still  in  Monte  Carlo,"  the  man 
went  on,  delighted  to  give  information.  "I  do  not 
know  where,  but  I  can  no  doubt  find  out  for  your 
Highness." 

"No,  thanks,  I  won't  trouble  you,"  Vanno  replied 
hurriedly.  He  would  not  learn  her  whereabouts 
from  a  servant,  but  would  find  out  for  himself 
Where  could  she  be?  To  whom  could  she  have 
gone?  The  uncertainty  was  unbearable.  If  it 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     307 

were  true  that  she  was  still  in  Monte  Carlo,  she 
would  probably  be  in  the  Casino  this  evening. 
Vanno  had  not  gone  there  often,  after  the  first  night 
or  two,  for  he  hated  to  see  Mary  in  the  Rooms  alone, 
playing  a  game  which  attracted  crowds,  and  caused 
people  of  all  sorts  to  talk  about  her.  Now,  however, 
he  finished  his  dinner  quickly,  and  went  immediately 
to  the  Casino. 

It  was  just  nine  o'clock,  and  though  it  was  Christ- 
mas the  crowd  was  as  great  as  ever,  even  greater 
than  he  had  seen  it  before.  Vanno  walked  through 
the  Salle  Schmidt,  where  Mary  usually  played,  stop- 
ping at  each  table  long  enough  to  make  sure  that  she 
was  not  there.  Then  he  passed  on  into  the  newer 
rooms  lit  by  those  hanging  lights  which  Mary  had 
thought  like  diamond  necklaces  of  giantesses.  The 
three  life-size  figuers  of  the  eccentric  yet  decorative 
picture,  nicknamed  "The  Disgraces,"  seemed  to  fol- 
low him  mockingly  with  langorous  eyes,  whispering 
to  each  other,  "Here  comes  a  fool  who  does  not  un- 
derstand women." 

Mary  was  not  playing  at  any  of  the  tables  in  these 
rooms;  but  there  was  hope  still.  The  Sporting  Club 
had  now  opened  for  the  season,  and  it  was  more 
fashionable  at  night  even  than  the  Casino.  Vanno 
had  walked  through  once  or  twice,  after  midnight 
when  the  Casino  had  shut,  and  found  there  a  scene 
of  great  beauty  and  animation:  the  prettiest  women 
in  Monte  Carlo,  wearing  wonderful  dresses  and 
jewels,  and  famous  men  of  nearly  all  the  countries 
of  the  world,  princes  and  politicians,  great  soldiers 


308     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

and  grave  judges,  and  even  one  or  two  travelling 
kings.  It  was  very  likely  that  Miss  Grant  would 
have  gone  on  to  the  Sporting  Club,  after  dinner  with 
friends  on  Christmas  Day. 

He  went  across  the  road  and  a  little  down  the  hill, 
where  the  white  clubhouse  owned  by  the  Casino 
blazed  with  light.  But  as  he  reached  it,  Dick  Carle- 
ton  dashed  through  the  door,  began  running  down 
the  steps,  and  almost  cannoned  into  him. 

"Beg  pardon,  Prince,"  he  exclaimed.  "I've  just 
been  told  that  a  friend  of  mine's  losing  like  the 
dickens,  in  the  Cercle  Prive,  and  I'm  going  to  dart 
across  and  take  out  my  subscription.  I've  never 
done  it  yet.  But  it  will  be  worth  the  hundred  francs 
to  stop  her,  if  I  can." 

"Is  it  Miss  Grant?"  Vanno  did  not  deliberately 
put  the  question,  but  heard  himself  asking  it. 

"Why,  yes  it  is,"  Carleton  admitted.  "Have  you 
been  in  —  have  you  seen  her?" 

"No.  But  I  felt  somehow  that  you  were  speak- 
ing of  Miss  Grant." 

"I  thought  you  scarcely  knew  her,"  Dick  caught 
him  up,  jealously. 

"You  are  right.  I  —  scarcely  know  her.  But 
one  has  intuitions  sometimes.  I  must  have  had  one 
then.  So  —  she  is  losing?  I  heard  she  had  wonder- 
ful luck." 

"She -has  had,  up  till  now.  Seemed  as  if  she 
couldn't  lose.  Christmas  night,  too!  Isn't  it  a 
shame?"  And  Dick  was  off,  hatless,  in  evening 
dress  without  an  overcoat.  Vanno  stood  still  in 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES    309 

front  of  the  Sporting  Club  for  a  moment,  watching 
the  slim  boyish  figure  go  striding  up  the  hill.  A 
liveried  porter,  seeing  the  Prince  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  obsequiously  opened  the  door,  but  Vanno 
made  a  sign  that  he  did  not  wish  to  enter.  As  soon 
as  Dick  had  disappeared,  Vanno  followed  him. 

As  he  went  seldom  to  the  Casino,  he  had  not  taken 
a  subscription  to  the  newest  rooms,  or  Cercle  Prive, 
where  the  price  of  admission  is  a  hundred  francs. 
These  rooms  are  for  ardent  gamblers  who  dislike 
playing  in  a  crowd,  and  Vanno,  who  had  not 
felt  inclined  to  play  at  all,  scarcely  remembered 
their  existence.  Now  he  bought  a  ticket,  however, 
and  having  written  his  name  upon  it,  followed 
Carleton  at  a  little  distance,  to  a  door  at  the  far  end 
of  the  trente  et  quarante  rooms.  His  heart  was 
beating  heavily,  for  in  a  few  minutes  he  would  per- 
haps know  to  whom  Mary  had  gone  when  she  left 
the  Hotel  de  Paris. 


XIX 

EVEN  the  new  rooms  were  crowded,  and  pre- 
occupied as  he  was,  it  struck  Vanno  oddly,  as  it 
always  did  strike  him  anew  in  the  Casino,  to  hear 
every  one  who  passed  talking  of  the  all-absorbing 
game.  They  were  obsessed  by  it,  and  threw  ques- 
tions to  each  other,  which  elsewhere  would  have 
meant  nothing,  or  some  very  different  thing;  but 
here  no  explanations  were  needed.  "Doing  any 
good?"  asked  a  pallid  young  man  with  a  twitching 
face,  like  that  of  a  galvanized  corpse,  as  he  met  a 
weary-eyed  woman  in  mourning,  whose  bare  hands 
glittered  with  rings.  "No, "  she  answered  peevishly. 
"You  never  saw  such  tables  —  all  running  to  in- 
termittences.  Nobody  can  do  anything,  except  the 
old  man  who  lives  on  two-one."  Then  the  pair 
began  speaking  of  Miss  Grant,  for  her  name  was 
common  property.  She  was  one  of  the  celebrities 
of  the  season. 

Vanno  went  on,  pausing  at  each  table  in  the  im- 
mense Empire  room,  whose  pale  green  walls  glit- 
tered with  Buonaparte's  golden  bees;  and  every- 
where he  heard  the  same  questions:  "How  are  you 
doing?  Tables  treating  you  well?"  Or,  "Have 
you  seen  Miss  Grant?  She's  simply  throwing  away 
money  to-night.  I'm  afraid  her  luck's  out." 

310 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     311 

There  was  something  ominous  and  fatal  in  these 
words,  repeated  again  and  again,  with  variations. 
"Poor  Miss  Grant!  Her  luck  is  out."  All  these 
gamblers  discussing  her  affairs,  commenting,  criticis- 
ing, bewailing  the  end  of  her  long  run  of  luck.  The 
idea  came  to  Vanno  that  it  was  like  a  chanting 
chorus  in  a  Greek  tragedy;  but  he  thrust  the  thought 
out  of  his  mind  with  violence.  He  could  not  bear 
to  associate  Mary  with  tragedy.  She  was  not 
made  for  a  life  and  a  place  like  this,  where  pain  and 
passion  and  heartburning  lie  in  sharp  contrast  of 
shadow  side  by  side  with  sunshine  and  flowers. 
Vanno  would  have  liked  to  spirit  her  away  out  of 
this  garden  of  painted  lilies,  to  a  sweet,  old-fashioned 
garden  where  pure  white  Madonna  lilies  lined  the 
quiet  paths.  If  only  she  had  listened  to  him  last 
night,  how  different  might  have  been  her  Christmas 
day  and  his! 

Presently  he  saw  Dick  Carleton,  standing  on  the 
outer  edge  of  a  crowd  which  had  collected  round 
one  of  the  tables  farthest  from  the  entrance.  He 
was  peering  over  people's  heads,  frowning,  his 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets.  Then  Vanno  knew  that 
he  need  look  no  farther  for  Mary. 

He  was  taller  than  Dick,  and  almost  pushing  his 
way  to  a  place,  he  saw  Mary  seated  at  the  opposite 
side  of  the  table.  She  sat  at  the  left  of  a  croupier, 
who  was  helping  her  to  place  her  numerous  stakes. 
Beside  her  was  Lady  Dauntrey,  and  behind  her 
chair,  tall  and  pale  and  very  haggard,  Lord  Daun- 
trey stood.  Vanno  guessed,  with  a  mingling  of 


312     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

relief  and  regret,  that  Mary  must  have  gone  to  live 
at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista. 

The  ball  spun  round,  rested  in  the  pocket  of 
number  11,  and  all  Mary's  stakes  were  swept 
away. 

"That's  the  eighth  time  in  succession  she's  lost 
maximums  round  twenty-four,"  mumbled  a  man 
close  to  Vanno's  shoulder,  in  a  young,  weak  voice. 

"She  deserves  it,  for  being  an  idiot,"  petulantly 
replied  a  woman,  in  French,  though  the  man  had 
spoken  in  English.  "I  was  her  mascotte.  I  showed 
her  how  to  play  and  how  to  win;  but  I  was  not 
good  enough  for  her  when  she  began  making  grand 
friends.  Some  women  are  so  disloyal!  She  has 
hurt  me  to  the  heart. " 

Vanno  glanced  down  impatiently,  and  saw  the 
woman  who  had  been  with  Mary  on  her  first  night 
at  the  Casino.  He  remembered  the  faded,  white- 
rose  face,  with  its  peevish  crumples  that  were  not 
yet  lines,  and  the  false  little  smile  that  tried  to  draw 
attention  away  from  them.  He  noticed  that  she 
was  no  longer  shabby,  but  wore  a  smart  new  dress 
and  hat,  with  a  huge  boa  of  ostrich  feathers  half 
covering  her  thin,  bare  neck.  There  was  a  glint 
of  jewels  about  her  as  she  moved.  The  man  with 
the  young,  weak  voice  gazed  at  her  admiringly, 
with  a  half-pitiful,  half-comic  air  of  pride  in  being 
seen  with  so  chic  a  creature. 

"Never  you  mind.  We  men  ain't  disloyal,  any- 
how," he  consoled  her.  She  smiled  at  him  pathet- 
ically, and  his  pale  blue  eyes,  like  those  of  a  faded 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  313 

Dresden  china  shepherd,  returned  her  look  with  ec- 
stasy. 

"That  wretched  boy  will  marry  the  woman," 
was  the  thought  that  jumped  into  Vanno's  mind. 
He  recognized  the  insignificant  face,  with  its  reced- 
ing chin  and  forehead,  as  that  of  a  very  young 
baronet,  the  last  of  a  degenerate  family,  weak  of 
intellect,  strong  only  in  his  craze  for  jewels  and  horses. 
He  had  been  in  love  with  two  or  three  English  girls, 
and  one  noted  American  beauty,  but  all,  though 
comparatively  poor,  had  refused  him,  saying  that 
one  "must  draw  the  line  somewhere,  and  he  was  the 
limit. "  Madeleine  d'Ambre  would  not  be  fastidious. 
The  brief  revelation,  like  something  seen  in  the 
flare  of  a  match  that  quickly  dies  out,  struck  Vanno 
with  pity  and  disgust.  But  a  youth  of  this  calibre 
was  sure  sooner  or  later  to  drift  to  Monte  Carlo; 
and  perhaps  the  Frenchwoman's  leading  strings 
would  be  better  for  him  than  none. 

Again  the  wheel  spun  round,  and  Mary  lost 
several  piles  of  gold  and  notes.  It  seemed  to  Vanno 
that  she  was  changed  not  only  in  expression,  but 
even  in  features.  The  outline  of  her  face  looked 
sharper,  thinner,  less  girlish.  Her  eyes,  very  wide 
open,  were  bright,  but  not  with  their  own  happy 
brightness,  like  a  reflection  of  sunlight.  They  were 
more  like  thick  glass  through  which  a  fire  can  be  seen 
dimly  burning:  and  she  looked  astonished,  piteous, 
as  a  child  looks  when  it  has  been  seized  and  whipped 
for  a  fault  committed  in  ignorance.  She  seemed 
to  be  saying  to  herself  dazedly,  "What  has 


314     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

happened  to  me?  Why  should  I  be  punished?" 
High  on  each  cheek  burned  a  round  spot  of  bright 
rose  colour. 

Sometimes  Lady  Dauntrey  spoke  to  her,  and 
Lord  Dauntrey  bent  down  and  appeared  to  advise. 
At  first  Mary  shook  her  head,  with  a  quivering  smile; 
but  when  the  piles  of  money  continued  to  be  swept 
away,  she  lost  confidence  in  herself,  and  accepted 
their  suggestions.  Evidently  she  tried  to  follow 
the  new  plan  of  action,  whatever  it  was,  but  her 
luck  did  not  change  for  the  better.  Almost  inva- 
riably her  stakes,  no  matter  where  placed,  were 
taken  from  her.  Even  the  croupiers  looked  sur- 
prised. From  time  to  time  they  darted  at  her 
glances  of  interest. 

A  great  longing  to  be  near,  to  protect  her  with 
love  and  sympathy,  rushed  over  Vanno.  He  forgot 
that  she  was  angry  with  him,  or  that  he  had  given 
her  cause  for  anger.  He  remembered  only  his  love, 
and  the  instinctive  knowledge  he  had  in  spite 
of  all,  that  her  heart  was  for  him.  He  felt,  unrea- 
sonably yet  intensely,  that  if  he  were  to  sit  at  the 
table  where  she  could  see  him  and  receive  the  mag- 
netic current  of  his  love,  she  would  come  to  herself; 
that  she  would  stop  fighting  this  demon  of  mis- 
fortune; that  she  would  be  filled  with  strength  and 
comfort,  and  would  know  what  was  best  to  do. 

As  if  moved  by  the  force  of  Vanno's  will,  a  man 
got  up  from  a  chair  directly  in  front.  It  was  Captain 
Hannaford,  who  looked  less  impassive  than  usual. 
His  somewhat  secretive  face  was  flushed,  and  he 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  315 

was  frowning.  Without  appearing  to  see  the  Prince, 
or  Dick  Carleton,  who  was  on  the  point  of  speak- 
ing, he  walked  quickly  away  from  the  table  as  if 
anxious  to  escape.  Almost  savagely,  Vanno  grasped 
the  back  of  the  chair  and  flung  himself  into  it, 
though  Madeleine  d'Ambre  had  been  on  the  point 
of  sitting  down.  A  moment  later  Hannaford 
strolled  back,  having  changed  his  mind  for  some 
reason;  but  Vanno  had  already  forgotten  him. 
He  remembered  only  Mary,  for  she  had  glanced  up 
for  an  instant,  and  their  eyes  had  met,  his  implor- 
ing, hers  startled,  then  hastily  averted. 

Hannaford  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Carle- 
ton,  who  nodded  and  spoke.  "I  wish  we  could 
get  her  to  stop !  I've  tried  —  came  over  from 
the  Sporting  Club  on  purpose,  but  she  won't  listen 
to  me." 

"We  can't  do  anything  with  her  at  the  table," 
said  Hannaford. 

"Norwood  told  me  she  was  losing  a  lot,  and  I  ran 
across  from  the  Sporting  Club,"  Dick  went  on. 
"No  good,  I  suppose,  as  you  say.  One  can't  keep 
whispering  a  stream  of  good  advice  down  the  back 
of  people's  necks.  Only  a  very  special  kind  of  an 

ass  tries  that  twice:  but  still,  I  did  hope " 

'"Yes,  there's  that  'but  still'  feeling,  isn't  there?" 
Hannaford  smiled  his  tired  smile,  that  never  bright- 
ened. "I  was  going  to  cut  it,  because  she  was 
getting  on  my  nerves  a  bit.  But  I've  come  back  to 
hang  around,  as  you're  doing,  and  try  the  effect  of 
will  power,  though  I'm  afraid  it  won't  work." 


316     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"It  seems  a  vile  table,"  Dick  remarked. 

"It's  got  a  grudge  against  Miss  Grant  apparently, 
but  it  was  all  right  for  me  till  I  began  to  get  nervy, 
watching  her  lose." 

"You  won?" 

"Yes,  and  felt  a  beast  —  as  if  I  were  taking  her 
money.  Whenever  I  was  on  one  colour,  she  seemed 
always  to  choose  a  number  on  the  other.  I've  got 
enough  money  to  buy  my  villa  now,  thanks  to  this 
night's  work;  so  I  shall  consider  it  a  Christmas  gift 
from  the  dear  old  Casino. " 

"Hurrah!"  said  Dick,  his  eyes  always  on  the  table 
and  Mary's  play.  "I'm  glad  some  one's  in  luck, 
anyhow."  He  had  heard  from  Rose  Winter,  and 
from  Hannaford  himself,  of  the  negotiations  for 
Madame  Rachel  Berenger's  place  just  across  the 
Italian  frontier.  Every  one  knew  of  her  wild  play 
at  the  Casino  and  of  her  losses,  which  were  now  so 
great  that  she  wished  to  sell  the  old  chateau  which 
she  had  bought  after  her  retirement  from  the  stage; 
and  Hannaford's  friends  were  aware  that  for  some 
months  he  had  been  quietly  bargaining  for  it. 
His  ambition  was  to  buy  the  place  out  of  his  win- 
nings, but  until  to-night  they  had  not  reached  the 
price  asked  by  the  old  actress.  Twenty  years  ago 
she  had  paid  two  hundred  thousand  francs  for  the 
huge  house,  almost  in  ruin.  Later  she  had  spent 
nearly  as  much  again  in  restoring  it,  and  creating  a 
garden  which  for  a  while  had  been  the  marvel  of 
the  coast.  Long  ago,  however,  it  had  gone  back  to 
wilderness.  The  splendid  furniture  imported  by 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     317 

Madame  Berenger  from  the  palace  of  an  impover- 
ished Bourbon  princess  had  lost  its  gilding  and  its 
rich  brocade  of  silk  and  velvet.  Two  discouraged 
servants  remained  with  her,  out  of  a  staff  of  twelve. 
Once  there  had  been  ten  gardeners;  now  there  was 
none;  and  the  one  hope  left  for  this  lost  palace  of 
sleep  was  in  a  new  ownership.  The  whole  place 
smelt  of  decay  and  desolation,  yet  to  Hannaford  it 
was  more  attractive  than  such  a  beautiful  and 
prosperous  domain  as  Schuyler's  Stellamare.  The 
sad  loveliness  of  the  old  house  and  the  old  garden 
made  a  special  appeal  to  him.  He  wanted  to  save 
the  Chateau  Lontana  from  ruin,  and  felt  super- 
stitiously  that  the  interest  he  would  find  in  such  a 
task  might  redeem  him  from  the  desolation  which, 
like  a  high  wall,  rose  between  him  and  life. 

Something  of  this  feeling  Mrs.  Winter  had  gath- 
ered from  Hannaford,  though  he  had  never  put  it 
in  words,  and  Dick  knew  she  would  be  glad  of  to- 
night's news.  It  was  no  secret  that  Madame  Ber- 
enger had  refused  to  accept  less  than  three  hundred 
thousand  francs;  therefore  Dick  sprang  to  the  con- 
clusion that  this  must  be  the  sum  of  Hannaford's 
winnings. 

"I  congratulate  you  heartily,"  he  said.  "My 
cousin  will  be  delighted.  She  likes  you,  and  has 
been  interested  about  the  Chateau  Lo'ntana. " 

"She's  been  very  kind  and  sympathetic.  No 
wonder  everybody  loves  her!  I  know  what  she'll 
want  to  say  now,  even  if  she  doesn't  say  it.  'Pay 
for  your  chateau,  and  play  no  more.'  Well,  if  you 


318     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

see  her  sooner  than  I  do,  please  tell  Mrs.  Winter 
I'm  going  to  take  her  advice  before  I  get  it  —  to  a 
certain  extent.  Not  a  louis  do  I  risk  till  the  place 
is  mine.  Then  —  perhaps  I'll  follow  my  luck,  and 
try  to  make  the  Casino  help  me  restore  the  house 
and  garden.  Not  that  I  want  to  do  much,  only 
enough  to  make  the  place  habitable,  and  give  the 
flowers  a  chance  to  breathe." 

"Then  you  mean  to  live  there?" 

"For  a  while  at  all  events.  Perhaps  not  long. 
Who  knows  what  one  may  do?  But  I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  it's  mine." 

Dick,  though  interested,  had  fallen  into  absent- 
mindedness.  Two  or  three  persons  having  slipped 
away,  he  was  able  to  get  nearer  the  table,  and  to 
see  more  clearly  what  Mary  was  doing.  It  almost 
seemed  that  if  he  and  Hannaford  concentrated  their 
whole  minds  upon  willing  her  to  stop  play  for  the 
night,  she  must  feel  the  influence.  Her  luck  was 
out,  certainly.  She  had  lost  a  great  deal,  but  she 
had  a  goodly  store  of  winnings  to  fall  back  upon. 

"Let's  will  her  hard,  to  leave  off,"  he  suggested, 
half  ashamed  of  the  proposal,  yet  secretly  in  earnest. 

Hannaford  smiled  indulgence.  "All  right,"  he 
said .  ' '  Here  goes ! ' ' 

Vanno  Delia  Robbia  less  deliberately  yet  with 
more  ardour  had  thrown  himself  into  the  same 
experiment.  He  thought  that  Mary's  anger  against 
him  might  have  one  good  result:  in  making  her 
wish  to  leave  the  table  where  he  had  come  to  sit. 
She  could  scarcely  fall  upon  worse  luck  elsewhere, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     319 

and  perhaps  she  might  give  up  play  for  the  evening 
if  she  went  away  from  this  unlucky  corner.  If  a 
wish  of  his  could  be  granted  by  fate,  she  would 
never  play  again.  Yet,  desiring  this  with  all  the 
force  that  was  in  him,  he  began  nevertheless  to 
gamble,  for  the  first  time  since  coming  to  Monte 
Carlo.  No  conscientious  scruple  had  held  him 
back  hitherto;  but  the  game  had  not  appealed  to 
him.  He  disliked  the  crowding,  the  sordidness  and 
vulgarity  which,  to  his  mind,  attended  it;  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  public  gambling  was  an  unin- 
telligent, greedy  vice. 

His  idea  in  putting  on  money  now  was  merely  to 
"pay  for  his  place,"  whence  he  did  not  mean  to 
move  as  long  as  Mary  stayed.  Many  other  men 
would  be  ready  to  snatch  the  chair  the  instant  he 
abandoned  it,  therefore  he  had  no  right  to  usurp 
the  Casino's  property  without  payment.  He  had  no 
small  money  with  him,  and  to  avoid  the  trouble 
of  changing  notes  with  a  croupier,  he  staked  a 
hundred  francs  on  red,  the  colour  of  the  number 
which  Lord  Dauntrey  had  just  advised  Mary  to 
choose. 

As  if  she  fully  realized  that  her  luck  had  failed 
her  to-night,  for  several  spins  she  had  been  guided 
entirely  by  Lord  Dauntrey.  He  was  directing  her 
play  according  to  his  system,  to  which  his  faith 
still  desperately  clung,  though  he  now  admitted  to 
his  friends  that  his  own  capital  was  not  big  enough 
to  test  it  fairly.  His  game  was  upon  numbers, 
columns,  and  dozens,  all  at  the  same  time,  increas- 


320     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

ing  the  stakes,  as  he  said,  "  with  the  bank's  money, " 
or,  in  other  words,  after  a  win.  It  was  therefore  a 
loss  following  directly  upon  a  win  which  was  the 
worst  enemy  of  the  system,  and  occasionally  there 
came  a  long  run  of  exactly  this  alternation:  win, 
loss,  win,  loss,  win,  loss.  It  happened  so  to-night, 
greatly  to  his  annoyance,  as  he  hoped  to  interest 
Miss  Grant  in  his  method.  Dom  Ferdinand  was 
sulkily  waiting  for  more  remittances,  and  amusing 
himself  meanwhile  by  throwing  about  a  few  louis 
here  and  there,  undirected  by  his  friend  Lord  Daun- 
trey.  The  Marquis  de  Casablanca  had  stopped 
play  entirely,  perhaps  in  the  hope  of  setting  his 
patron  a  wise  example.  The  Collises  had  never 
been  useful.  Dodo  Wardropp  liked  to  gamble 
"on  her  own,"  and  Mrs.  Ernstein,  though  rich, 
was  a  coward  when  it  came  to  risking  her  money 
at  the  tables.  Others  in  the  house  made  themselves 
as  irritating  to  Lord  Dauntrey  in  their  selfish  ob- 
stinacy as  Dodo;  and  all  his  hopes  centred  upon 
Mary.  She  was  a  lamb  whom  his  wife  had  cleverly 
caught  in  the  bushes,  a  lamb  with  golden  fleece.  He 
would  have  liked  above  all  things  to  help  her  win 
this  first  night;  but  curiously  enough  she  lost 
monotonously,  no  matter  what  game  she  tried, 
unless  Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia  pushed  money 
on  to  some  chance  where  her  stake  happened  to  lie. 
Then  and  then  only  she  won;  so  that  if  she  inclined 
to  superstition  (as  did  most  women  at  the  tables) 
she  would  believe  that  not  Lord  Dauntrey  but  the 
Roman  "brought  her  luck."  Nevertheless  she 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     321 

seemed  vexed  rather  than  pleased  when  the  Prince 
(whom  Dauntrey  knew  by  sight  and  name)  fixed 
upon  a  chance  where  she  had  staked.  Presently, 
though  she  won  four  times  running  when  this  oc- 
curred, she  kept  back  her  money  until  the  last, 
staking  only  just  before  the  croupier's  "Rien  ne  va 
plus,"  to  prevent  Delia  Robbia  from  following  her 
lead.  At  last,  she  got  up  impatiently.  "I  am 
tired!"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  slightly. 
"I  hardly  know  what  I'm  doing." 

Mary  did  not  pick  up  the  money  —  comparatively 
little  —  which  was  the  remnant  of  her  losses,  and 
Dauntrey  asked  sympathetically  if  she  would  like 
him  to  play  for  her,  according  to  the  plan  they  had 
begun  to  follow  out. 

"Yes,  if  you  please,"  she  replied,  seeming  to 
attach  no  importance  to  her  answer  or  to  the  small 
pile  of  gold  and  notes,  all  that  remained  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  with  which  she  had  begun  the 
evening. 

Without  another  glance  at  the  table,  or  a  flicker 
of  the  lashes  at  Vanno,  she  turned  away;  and  after 
a  whispered  word  or  two  in  Lord  Dauntrey's  ear, 
Eve  went  with  her,  in  the  direction  of  the  Salle 
Schmidt. 

Vanno  had  an  immediate  impulse  to  rise,  but 
common  sense  forbade.  Mary  had  so  unmistak- 
ably shown  her  dislike  of  his  presence,  and  the 
association  of  his  play  with  hers,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  follow  her.  Though  he  detested 
Lady  Dauntrey,  in  his  heart  he  preferred  her  to  a 


322     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

man  as  a  companion  for  Mary,  even  a  man  like  Dick 
Carleton;  and  for  the  moment  the  jealousy  he  could 
not  control  was  at  rest.  Seeing  that  Lord  Dauntrey's 
weary  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  he  continued 
to  play,  as  if  he  had  not  noticed  Mary's  going. 
By  and  by  the  game  began  to  absorb  him  in  a  way 
he  would  not  have  believed  possible.  He  became 
excited,  with  an  odd,  tense  excitement  which  had 
an  almost  fierce  joy  in  it.  Never  before  had  he  felt 
an  emotion  exactly  like  this,  except  once,  when  in 
India  he  and  a  friend  had  lain  in  wait  for  a  man- 
eating  tiger,  in  the  night,  at  the  tiger's  drinking 
place.  Dimly  it  amused  him  to  compare  this  sen- 
sation with  the  other;  and  it  surprised  him,  too, 
that  he  should  feel  as  he  felt  now;  for  gambling  had 
always  seemed  to  him  not  only  greedy  and  sordid 
and  vulgar,  but  a  stupid  way  of  passing  the  time, 
unworthy  a  man  or  woman  of  sense  and  breeding. 

To  his  own  amazement,  the  pleasure  of  the  game 
was  balm  for  the  heartache  Mary  had  made  him 
suffer.  He  did  not  forget  her,  or  his  repentance, 
or  the  determination  to  right  himself  in  her  eyes; 
yet  the  hot  throb  of  his  anxiety  was  soothed,  as  by 
an  opiate.  What  he  felt  for  Mary  was  but  a  part 
of  this  keen  emotion  that  flowed  through  him  like 
a  tide. 

He  remembered  the  prophecy  of  his  friend  the 
astrologer,  in  the  Libyan  desert,  that  his  star  in  the 
ascendant  would  bring  him  good  fortune  this  month 
of  December.  Certainly  he  had  not  found  luck 
in  love.  Perhaps  it  was  to  come  to  him  through 


gambling.  He  wondered  if  there  could  be  any 
possible  connection  between  the  stars  and  the 
actions  of  a  man,  or  the  chances  of  a  game  like 
roulette.  Though  his  studies  of  the  stars  had  been 
confined  to  astronomy,  the  romance  in  him,  and  the 
dreamer's  love  of  mystery,  refused  to  shut  the  door 
on  belief  in  another  branch  of  the  same  science. 
It  was  enormously  interesting  to  think  that  per- 
haps the  stars,  the  planets,  controlled  this  tiny 
sphere  of  ivory  in  its  mad  dash  round  the  revolving 
wheel.  Since  the  whole  universe  was  made  up  of 
marvels  almost  beyond  credence,  who  with  cer- 
tainty could  say  "no?" 

Vanno  was  not  rich.  He  had  no  more  than  thirty 
thousand  francs  a  year,  left  him  by  his  mother, 
and  had  refused  an  extra  allowance  from  the  Duke. 
It  had  been  his  pride  to  live  within  his  income,  all 
through  his  travels,  and  despite  his  love  of  collecting 
rare  books.  His  father  had  given  him  his  observatory 
at  Monte  Delia  Robbia,  but  nothing  else  of  impor- 
tance. His  invention  was  beginning  to  bring  him  in  a 
little,  but  it  would  never  make  a  fortune;  and  he  was 
not  one  who  could  afford  a  "flutter"  at  Monte  Carlo 
without  counting  the  cost.  To-night,  however,  after 
winning  some  thousands  of  francs,  it  did  not  occur 
to  him  —  as  it  might  if  some  other  man  in  his 
circumstances  had  been  concerned  —  that  it  would 
be  wise  to  stop.  The  spin  of  the  wheel  began  to 
exert  a  fascination  over  his  mind,  appealing  to  all 
that  was  adventurous  in  him.  Not  once  was  he 
conscious  of  putting  on  a  stake  for  the  sake  of  the 


324     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

money  it  might  gain;  not  once  did  he  hesitate  from 
fear  of  loss.  It  was  the  call  of  the  unknown  that 
lured  him,  the  thrilling  doubt  as  to  where  the  ball 
would  stop. 

The  little  dancing  white  thing,  magical  as  a  silver 
bullet,  seemed  a  miniature  incarnation  of  destiny, 
spinning  his  fate.  Always  Vanno  was  pricked  by 
the  desire  to  try  again,  and  see  if  he  could  once  more 
foretell  the  result.  There  lay  the  poignant,  the 
indescribable  charm:  in  not  knowing. 

He  saw  now  that  he  had  misjudged  gamblers  in 
believing  them  all  to  be  mercenary,  at  least  at  the 
moment  of  gambling.  Some  might  be  so,  many 
perhaps;  but  he  began  to  realize  that  the  chief  ap- 
peal was  to  the  imaginative  temperament,  such  as 
he  knew  his  own,  and  guessed  Mary's,  to  be. 

When  his  stake  was  larger  than  usual  —  larger  a 
good  deal  than  he  could  afford  in  prudence  —  he 
revelled  in  the  uncertainty  of  the  event  which  he 
intensely  desired.  And  it  dawned  in  his  mind 
that  this  was  the  true  intoxication  of  the  gam- 
bler, the  delicious  anguish  of  playing  with  the  un- 
known. It  was  a  more  dangerous  intoxication 
than  he  had  supposed  it  to  be,  because  more  subtle, 
as  the  effect  of  cocaine  or  morphia  is  more  insidi- 
ous than  that  of  alcohol. 

Like  a  hunter,  he  pursued  the  game  until,  to  his 
great  surprise,  a  croupier  announced,  "Les  trois 
derniers. "  It  was  almost  impossible  to  believe  that 
he  had  sat  at  the  table  for  hours. 

By  this  time  Vanno  had  abandoned  all  attempt 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     325 

to  check  his  winnings  and  losses.  It  was  not  until 
he  had  gathered  up  his  money  and  counted  it  on 
leaving  the  table  that  he  knew  he  had  lost  not  only 
his  winnings,  but  three  thousand  francs  besides. 
The  discovery  filled  him  with  a  peculiar,  bitter 
annoyance,  as  if  an  alkaloid  fluid  ran  through  his 
veins:  and  this  not  because  of  the  loss,  which  was 
comparatively  insignificant,  but  because  he  had 
failed,  because  he  had  been  ignominiously  beaten 
by  the  bank.  He  had  had  his  luck,  and  had  stupidly 
thrown  it  away,  after  the  manner  of  all  those  fools 
for  whom  he  had  felt  a  superior,  pitying  contempt. 
Still,  he  was  not  sorry  that  he  had  played.  His 
short  experience  of  roulette  and  the  curious  exhil- 
aration the  spin  of  the  wheel  had  given  brought  him 
nearer  to  understanding  Mary  than  he  had  ever 
come  before,  or  could  have  come  otherwise.  Also, 
his  combativeness  was  roused.  His  nerves  seemed 
to  quiver,  to  bristle  with  an  angry  determination  to 
justify  himself  in  his  own  eyes,  and  to  have  his 
revenge  upon  the  brutal  power  of  the  bank. 

"I'll  get  it  all  back  from  them  to-morrow,"  he 
thought,  "and  more  besides.  I  won't  be  beaten. 
And  when  I've  done  something  worth  doing,  I'll 
stop.  That's  the  way  to  gamble. " 


XX 

MARY  was  not  comfortable  at  the  Dauntreys', 
and  the  house  depressed  her;  but  it  was  a  refuge 
from  the  Hotel  de  Paris,  where  Prince  Giovanni 
Delia  Robbia  was;  and  Lady  Dauntrey  was  so  kind, 
so  affectionate,  that  Mary  felt  it  her  duty  to  be 
grateful.  Almost  strangers  as  they  were,  her  hos- 
tess poured  into  her  ears  a  great  many  intimate 
confidences,  and  asked  her  guest's  advice  as  well  as 
sympathy.  Mary  was  touched  by  this,  for  Lady 
Dauntrey  seemed  a  strong  woman;  and,  besides, 
the  slight  put  upon  her  by  Vanno  had  left  a 
raw  wound  which  appreciation  from  others  helped 
superficially  to  heal.  She  had  been  so  openly  ad- 
mired and  flattered  at  Monte  Carlo  that  vanity  had 
blossomed  in  her  nature  like  a  quick-growing  flower, 
though  she  had  no  idea  that  she  had  become  vain. 
Men  looked  at  her  with  the  look  which  is  a  tribute 
from  the  whole  sex.  She  could  hardly  bear  it  that 
the  One  Man  should  disapprove. 

Those  impecunious  painters  who  haunt  the  open- 
air  restaurants  at  Monte  Carlo,  on  the  chance  of 
selling  a  five-minute  portrait,  had  buzzed  round  her 
like  bees  round  a  honey-pot,  but  they  were  not  the 
only  ones.  Two  artists  of  some  renown  had  got 
themselves  introduced  through  acquaintances  the 

326 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     327 

Casino  had  given  her,  and  begged  her  to  sit  to 
them.  Also  it  was  true,  as  gossip  said,  that  the 
artist  she  had  met  in  the  train  had  arrived,  and 
hastened  to  renew  the  acquaintance.  He  had 
painted  her  portrait.  She  had  paid  for  it  and  — 
burnt  it.  She,  the  quiet  schoolgirl,  the  earnest 
postulant,  the  novice  who  had  never  thought  of  her 
own  face,  who  for  a  year  had  not  seen  it  in  a  mirror 
or  missed  the  sight  of  it,  knew  herself  now  for  a 
beauty,  a  charming  figure  of  importance  in  this 
strange,  concrete  little  world  where  Hercules  enter- 
tained his  guests.  And  then,  to  be  despised  by  the 
one  person  who  occupied  her  thoughts,  despised  and 
thrust  away  at  the  very  moment  when  he  confessed 
to  loving  her!  It  was  a  blow  to  the  woman's  pride 
which  had  not  consciously  stooped  to  unworthiness, 
and  a  still  sharper  hurt  to  her  new  vanity. 

She  wanted  to  show  Vanno,  if  he  still  thought  of 
her,  that  others  burned  incense  to  her  beauty,  though 
he  had  not  placed  her  on  an  altar.  The  discomforts 
of  the  Villa  Bella  Vista  mattered  little  to  the  girl 
who  had  gone  through  a  hard  novitiate  in  a  Scotch 
convent.  She  made  her  own  bed  and  dusted  her 
room.  She  did  not  care  what  she  ate;  and  she  tried 
to  throw  her  whole  heart  into  the  life  of  the  house- 
hold, that  amazing  household  which  was  unlike 
anything  she  could  have  imagined  out  of  a  dis- 
ordered dream. 

Always  after  coming  to  the  Dauntreys5  she  con- 
tinued to  lose  at  the  Casino,  often  large  sums,  oc- 
casionally picking  up  a  little^  as  if  luck  hovered  near, 


328     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

awaiting  its  cue  to  return,  only  to  be  frightened 
away  again.  But  after  a  few  days'  time,  in  which 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand  francs  slipped 
through  her  fingers,  Lady  Dauntrey  suggested  that 
Miss  Grant  should  "rest"  for  a  while,  meantime 
letting  Dauntrey  play  his  system  for  her  benefit  and 
with  her  capital.  This  idea  did  not  amuse  Mary. 

The  "gambler's  blood,"  of  which  she  had  been 
warned  by  her  father,  warmed  to  the  excitement  of  the 
game.  She  craved  this  excitement,  and  felt  lost  with- 
out it,  now  that  the  interest  of  Prince  Vanno's  distant 
presence  in  her  life  was  gone.  Still,  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  refuse  an  offer  which  seemed  meant 
in  kindness.  She  gave  Lord  Dauntrey  one  thousand 
louis,  the  smallest  capital,  he  explained,  necessary 
to  exploit  his  system  with  five-franc  pieces  at  rou- 
lette. He  assured  her  that  with  pleasure  he  would 
add  this  money  to  the  same  sum  of  his  own,  and 
play  for  her  as  well  as  himself,  the  syndicate  he 
had  originally  formed  being  now  dissolved.  Dodo 
hinted  that  operations  had  been  stopped  because  the 
whole  capital  was  lost,  but  Lord  Dauntrey  had 
already  mentioned  to  Mary  that  a  few  slight  re- 
verses had  frightened  the  "shareholders."  This 
cowardice,  he  said,  had  so  disgusted  him  that  he  had 
given  back  the  capital  to  each  one  intact,  and  politely 
refused  to  play  any  longer  for  the  syndicate.  A 
position  of  such  responsibility  was  only  possible  if 
he  were  upheld  by  the  confidence  of  all  concerned. 
Otherwise,  he  preferred  to  gamble  only  for  himself, 
or  for  a  personal  friend  or  two  who  trusted  him. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     329 

Each  night,  after  Mary  placed  her  thousand 
louis  in  his  hands,  Lord  Dauntrey  gave  her  five 
hundred  francs.  This  was  as  high  a  percentage, 
he  made  clear  to  her,  as  could  be  got  out  of  the 
capital  except  at  a  risk  of  heavy  losses,  and  he  "did 
not  care  to  run  big  risks  for  a  woman."  On  a 
thousand  louis,  Lord  Dauntrey  explained,  five  hun- 
dred francs  profit  nightly  represented  900  per  cent, 
a  year,  which  was  of  course  enormous;  and  regarded 
thus,  her  risk  was  an  investment,  not  a  speculation. 

When  some  of  Lady  Dauntrey's  bright  particular 
stars  left  her  firmament  (as  they  did  leave  occasion- 
ally with  the  quick  flight  of  comets)  she  hastened  to 
fill  the  vacancies  with  any  small  luminaries  avail- 
able. The  Villa  Bella  Vista  remained  full,  even 
when  Mrs.  Ernstein  went  suddenly  to  Cannes, 
where  "villa  life"  might  be  considered  even  more 
aristocratic  than  at  "Monte";  and  Dom  Ferdinand 
took  himself  and  his  ally  out  of  danger's  way  when 
Dodo  refused  to  understand  that  only  flirtation,  not 
marriage,  was  possible  with  a  "commoner."  The 
price  of  Dauntrey  hospitality  had,  however,  fallen. 
Those  who  could  be  attracted  by  the  bait  of  their 
barren  title  had  now  to  be  looked  for  low  in  the 
social  scale:  and  it  was  difficult  to  get  eligible  partis 
with  whom  to  dazzle  heiresses.  The  slender  Aus- 
trian count,  whom  Dodo  scornfully  pronounced  a 
"don't  count,"  vanished  mysteriously  soon  after 
Mary's  arrival.  He  did  not  even  say  goodbye; 
and  Dodo,  who  vowed  that  she  had  often  heard  him 
groaning  behind  the  thin  partition  which  divided 


330     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her  room  from  his,  went  whispering  about  the  house 
that  he  had  committed  suicide  in  the  Casino  gar- 
dens. 

"Why  not?"  she  argued  almost  convulsively, 
when  Mary  protested  that  surely  such  a  dreadful 
thing  could  not  have  been  kept  secret.  "Would  the 
Dauntreys  tell,  if  they  knew?  No,  of  course  they'd 
hush  it  up,  and  get  rid  of  anything  he'd  left  —  in 
one  way  or  another.  Not  that  there  was  much  to 
get  rid  of,  for  the  Mont  de  Piete  was  a  kind  of  home 
from  home  for  the  Count.  He  used  to  run  back 
and  forth  between  there  and  the  Casino,  like  a  dis- 
tracted rabbit:  pawn  his  watch;  play  with  the  money; 
win;  race  back  and  get  his  watch;  lose  again;  and  so 
on  a  dozen  times  a  day,  till  he  was  stripped  of 
jewellery  down  to  his  studs  and  collar  buttons.  It 
all  came  from  his  obstinacy  in  believing  that  the 
croupiers  at  trente  et  quarante  were  signalling  to 
him  whether  it  was  going  to  be  inverse  or  couleur, 
when  they  were  really  only  licking  their  thumbs  to 
deal  the  cards  better!  /  say,  if  you  must  have  a 
fetish,  have  a  reasonable  one,  like  playing  for  neigh- 
bours of  zero  at  roulette.  But  that  silly  boy  thought 
himself  too  smart  for  roulette,  and  he  wouldn't  take 
any  advice,  so  this  is  what  conies  of  it.  I  feel  in  my 
bones  that  his  are  in  the  suicide's  cemetery  this 
minute.  Has  nobody  told  you  that  there  are  no 
inquests  of  coroners  here  in  this  principality?  And 
a  jolly  good  thing,  too!  Why  make  the  rest  of  us 
gloomy  by  putting  nasty  details  in  the  papers,  when 
we've  come  here  to  enjoy  ourselves?  They  don't  ask 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     331 

people  to  gamble,  they  merely  make  it  nice  for  'em 
if  they're  determined  to,  and  anyhow  it's  honest 
gambling.  They  don't  want  you  to  play  if  you  can't 
afford  it  and  are  going  to  be  an  idiot,  because  they 
hate  rows  and  scandal.  It's  all  for  our  benefit!  If 
a  man's  cad  enough  to  blow  his  brains  out  at  the 
tables,  all  over  a  lady's  dress,  he  is  whisked  away  so 
quick  nobody  has  time  to  realize  what's  up  before 
a  glass  door  in  the  wall  has  opened  with  a  spring 
and  shut  again  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Not  a 
croupier  stops  spinning.  I  call  it  magnificent.  But 
it  does  make  you  feel  a  bit  creepy  when  anybody 
you've  known  disappears  into  space!" 

Lord  Burden,  the  dilapidated  earl  imported  as  a 
parti,  was  of  opinion  that  the  Austrian  count  had 
merely  applied  for  the  viatique;  and  being  granted  by 
the  management  a  sum  large  enough  to  pay  his  fare 
and  his  food,  had  departed  without  caring  to  show 
his  face  again  at  the  villa.  Others  were  inclined  to 
agree  with  Dodo,  especially  the  women,  who  were  of 
the  type  that  secretly  enjoys  mystery  and  horror, 
when  unconnected  with  themselves.  No  one  ever 
really  knew,  however  (unless  perhaps  the  Daun- 
treys),  what  had  become  of  the  youth  with  hair  en 
brosse,  and  wasp  waist  so  slim  that  the  body  seemed 
held  together  by  a  mere  ligament.  He  was  gone: 
that  was  all,  and  his  small  place  in  the  household 
was  more  than  filled  by  a  German  couple,  an  ex- 
officer  with  an  adoring  wife,  both  of  whom  spent 
half  their  days  in  bed,  testing  on  a  roulette  watch 
various  exciting  systems  which,  now  they  had 


332     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

come  from  afar  off,  they  lacked  courage  to  play  at 
the  Casino.  Their  name  was  so  intricate  that  Dodo 
Wardropp  said  it  ought  to  be  kept  a  secret.  As 
nobody  could  pronounce  it,  however,  it  amounted 
to  that,  in  the  end. 

They  did  not  stay  long;  and  indeed,  after  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  Austrian  count,  a  microbe  prick- 
ing people  to  departure  seemed  to  multiply  in  the 
Villa  Bella  Vista.  The  sailor  went  suddenly,  on 
receipt  of  a  letter  from  the  Admiralty,  that  prying 
institution  having  learned  and  disapproved  of  the 
way  in  which  he  was  spending  his  leave  and  his  pay. 
Lord  Burden  followed  Mrs.  Ernstein  to  Cannes;  and 
Dodo,  who  never  ceased  to  want  good  value  for  her 
money,  was  bitterly  dissatisfied  with  the  unmarried 
men  who  remained. 

The  principal  one  had  at  first  attracted  not  only 
Dodo  but  every  other  woman,  with  the  exception 
of  Mary.  He  spoke  English  well,  yet  appeared  to 
be  equally  at  home  in  all  socially  useful  lan- 
guages. He  looked  like  a  Russian,  dressed  like  a 
Frenchman,  claimed  to  have  estates  in  Italy,  copper 
mines  in  Spain,  a  shooting  in  Hungary,  and  told 
delightful  anecdotes  of  his  intimate  friendship  with 
most  existing  sovereigns.  Not  a  king  or  queen  of  any 
standing  but  —  according  to  him  —  came  often  to 
his  "little  place"  in  this  country  or  that,  and  ad- 
dressed him  as  "Dear  Alfred."  His  manner,  his 
voice,  were  so  smooth  that  they  oiled  the  creak- 
ing wheels  of  life  at  the  villa;  and  his  stories, 
told  at  the  table,  distracted  guests'  attention  from 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     333 

the  skeleton  at  the  feast  —  a  premature  skeleton  of 
a  once  muscular  chicken,  or  a  lamb  that  had  seen  its 
second  childhood.  Unfortunately,  however,  a  jour- 
nalist who  knew  everybody  and  everything  in  the 
world  was  brought  in  to  luncheon  by  Lord  Dauntrey 
one  day,  and  recognized  the  favourite  of  the  house- 
hold as  a  famous  Parisian  furrier.  He  had  supplied 
enough  sable  coat  linings  for  kings  and  ermine 
cloaks  for  queens  to  give  him  food  for  a  lifetime  of 
authentic  anecdotes.  His  acquaintance  with  royal- 
ties was  genuine  of  its  kind,  but  it  was  not  of  a  kind 
that  appealed  to  the  paying  guests  at  Lady  Daun- 
trey's.  Dodo  turned  a  cold  shoulder  upon  him,  and 
for  a  day  or  two  gave  her  attention  to  the  only 
other  man  in  the  house  who  pluckily  advertised 
himself  as  unmarried.  He  advertised  himself  also 
as  a  millionaire,  and  not  without  reason,  though 
Lord  Dauntrey  had  cleverly  picked  him  up  in  the 
Casino.  When  he  mentioned,  however,  that  he  was 
a  Sydney  man,  Miss  Wardropp  ceased  to  talk  at 
him  across  the  table.  This  change  of  tactics  her 
enemies  attributed  to  fear  that  he  "knew  all  about 
her  at  home."  But  she  told  Mary  that  he  had  such 
slept-on  looking  ears,  he  took  away  her  appetite; 
and  one  needed  all  the  appetite  one  could  muster  to 
worry  through  a  meal  at  the  Bella  Vista.  Besides,  she 
believed  that  he  had  made  his  fortune  by  some  awful 
stuff  which  kept  hair  from  decaying  or  teeth  from 
falling  off,  and  it  did  one  no  good  to  be  seen  in  the 
Casino  with  a  creature  like  that.  It  was  almost 
better  to  go  about  with  a  woman,  though  she  did 


334     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

hate  being  reduced  to  walking  with  a  female;  it  made 
a  girl  look  so  unsuccessful. 

At  length  Dodo  decided  that,  even  for  Mary's 
sake,  she  could  no  longer  "stick  it  out"  at  the  Bella 
Vista.  She  felt,  she  said,  so  wretched  that  she  was 
"  quite  off  her  bonbons."  The  crisis  came  at  luncheon 
and  indirectly  through  the  marmoset.  Dodo  paid 
well  and  regularly;  therefore  she  was  tacitly  allowed 
certain  privileges,  not  always  approved  by  her 
fellow-guests.  Diablette  had  been  a  standing  cause 
of  friction  between  Lady  Dauntrey  and  the  dog's 
mistress;  but  the  marmoset,  its  successful  rival  in 
Dodo's  affections,  was  grudgingly  permitted  when- 
ever Lord  Dauntrey  had  borrowed  fifty  francs  or  so, 
to  select  its  own  fruit  from  the  dessert.  Some 
people  were  even  amused  at  seeing  the  tiny  animal 
jump  from  Dodo's  lap  on  to  the  table,  and  pick  out 
the  best  grapes  in  an  old-fashioned  centre-piece.  On 
the  last  fatal  day,  however,  Lady  Dauntrey's  nerves 
had  been  rasped  by  the  loss  of  her  fifth  cook.  When 
the  marmoset  was  taken  suddenly  and  desperately 
ill  in  the  bread  plate,  Eve  flew  into  a  rage,  and  high 
words  passed  like  rapier  flashes  between  her  and 
Miss  Wardropp.  Dodo  attributed  her  pet's  seizure 
to  the  fact  that  Dauntrey  fruit  was  unfit  even  for  a 
monkey's  consumption,  and  Eve  informed  the  whole 
company  that  Dodo  was  a  disgusting  Australian 
pig.  This  was  the  last  insult.  Dodo  shrilly  "gave 
notice,"  while  the  marmoset  was  dying  in  her  napkin. 
The  meal  ended  in  confusion;  and  Miss  Wardropp 
went  away  that  afternoon  with  the  living  Diablette, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     335 

the  dead  monkey,  two  teddy  bears,  an  umbrella- 
mosquito-net,  and  seven  trunks. 

"Ask  that  man  for  your  money  back!"  she  ad- 
vised Mary  on  the  doorstep.  "I  don't  say  go  to 
her,  for  she'd  only  tell  you  some  lie.  'Lie  and  let 
lie'  is  her  motto.  She's  reduced  lying  to  a  fine  art. 
But  ask  him  for  your  capital,  my  dear,  and  watch 
his  face  when  you  do  it.  Compared  to  his  wife 
he's  a  model,  even  if  it's  a  model  of  all  the  vices." 

Mary  missed  Dodo.  Diablette  had  been  an  in- 
vincible and  dangerous  enemy  to  the  blue  frog  from 
the  Mentone  china  shop,  poor,  blase  Hilda,  who 
spent  most  of  her  time  choking  in  flies  a  size  too 
large  for  her,  or  trying  helplessly  to  push  them  down 
her  blue  throat  with  a  tiny  turquoise  hand.  Dodo, 
however,  had  been  a  ray  of  brightness  in  the  house: 
meretricious,  garish  brightness  perhaps;  still  she  had 
given  a  tinselline  sparkle  to  the  dull  rooms  when 
things  were  at  their  worst,  and  Lady  Dauntrey 
clouded  with  sullen  gloom. 

When  the  newest  and  humblest  guests  of  the  Villa 
Bella  Vista  lost  money  beyond  a  certain  limit,  the 
bare  thought  of  the  Casino  gave  them  mental  in- 
digestion. They  then  stayed  safely  at  home,  and 
infested  the  unaired  drawing-room  —  pale  people 
reading  pink  papers,and  talking  "  system  " ;  or  flushed 
people  playing  bridge  for  small  points,  with  the  win- 
dows hermetically  closed  and  their  backs  to  the  sun- 
set. They  quarrelled  among  themselves  in  a  liverish 
way  over  cards  and  politics,  and  agreed  only  on  the 
subject  of  such  titled  acquaintances  as  they  had  in 


336     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

common,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  be  perfectly  charm- 
ing. But  these  heraldic  conversations  bored  Mary 
even  more  intensely  than  the  squabbles.  There 
came  a  time  when  desperation  got  the  upper  hand  of 
that  prudence  so  earnestly  recommended  by  Lord 
Dauntrey.  She  could  not  endure  the  long  evenings 
in  the  villa,  and  felt  that  she  must  again  tempt 
fortune  at  the  Casino. 

One  night  after  dinner  she  broke  to  her  host  the 
news  that  she  need  no  longer  trouble  him  to  win 
money  for  her.  She  would  take  back  her  own  half 
of  the  capital  he  was  using,  and  play  the  old  game 
once  more. 

"If  I  have  a  few  days'  luck,  I  think  the  wisest 
thing  to  do  next  would  be  to  go  away,"  she  went  on, 
forcing  herself  to  laugh  quite  gayly,  as  if  there  were 
nobody  at  Monte  Carlo  whom  it  would  hurt  her 
cruelly  never  to  see  again.  "I've  stayed  on  and  on, 
when  all  the  time  I  ought  to  have  been  somewhere 
else.  And  I've  never  had  courage  to  write  my  - 
my  friends  at  home  what  I've  been  doing.  Just  one 
more  *  flutter,'  and  then  —  goodbye!" 

Her  thoughts  flew  afar,  as  she  made  this  little  set 
speech.  She  saw  Vanno  as  he  had  looked  that  day, 
and  on  other  days  when  she  had  deliberately  cut 
him  in  the  street,  or  in  the  Casino,  though  she  knew 
he  had  been  waiting  in  the  hope  that  she  would  relent 
and  let  him  speak.  His  eyes  haunted  her  every- 
where. It  seemed  to  her  that  they  were  very  sad, 
and  had  lost  that  burning,  vital  light  of  the  spirit 
which  in  contrast  had  made  the  personalities  of  other 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     337 

men  dull  as  smouldering  fires.  Occasionally  he  was 
near  her  at  the  tables,  for  he  played  constantly  now, 
recklessly  and  often  disastrously  according  to  Hanna- 
ford. 

The  word  "goodbye"  and  its  attendant  thought 
of  departure  brought  Vanno's  image  as  clearly  before 
Mary  as  if  he  had  walked  into  the  ugly  drawing- 
room,  where  people  were  shuffling  cards  for  bridge 
or  putting  on  their  wraps  for  the  Casino.  It  was 
Vanno  alone  who  was  real  for  her,  not  the  other 
figures ;  and  she  did  not  see  the  grayness  that  settled 
like  a  shadow  on  Lord  Dauntrey's  lined  and  sallow 
face. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  Miss  Grant,"  he  said,  "but 
I  can't  give  you  back  your  money  now,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  banked  most  of  your  capital 
and  mine  this  afternoon.  I  felt  rather  seedy,  and 
didn't  mean  to  play  seriously  to-night.  If  only 
you'd  spoken  in  time,  it  would  have  been  all  right 
enough.  But  now  I'm  afraid  the  best  I  can  do  for 
you,  until  to-morrow,  will  be  a  few  hundred  francs. 
My  wife  and  I  must  see  what  we  can  scrape  to- 
gether." 

He  jumbled  his  words,  as  if  in  a  hurry  to  get  them 
all  out,  and  laughed  apologetically,  staring  Mary 
straight  In  the  face,  insistently,  with  his  melancholy 
eyes.  Something  in  them  caught  her  attention, 
distracting  it  from  the  thought  that  was  always 
forcing  itself  in  front  of  others.  She  readily  be- 
lieved that  he  "felt  seedy,"  for  he  looked  extremely 
111.  There  were  bags  under  the  gray  eyes,  and  his 


338     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

skin  seemed  loose  on  his  face,  almost  like  a  glove  on 
a  hand  for  which  it  is  too  large.  Mary  was  sorry 
for  him,  and  protested  that  after  all  she  did  not  care 
about  playing  that  night.  She  would  wait  till  to- 
morrow, and  he  must  not  mind  what  she  had  said. 
He  appeared  to  be  slightly  relieved;  but  though  he 
smiled,  his  eyes  kept  the  dull  glassiness  which  gave 
them  an  unnatural  effect. 

Late  that  night  Eve  knocked  at  Mary's  door.  She 
had  on  a  bright  green  dressing-gown,  with  a  Chinese 
embroidery  running  over  it  of  golden  dragons  and 
serpents.  In  her  hand  she  carried  a  cheap  silver- 
backed  brush,  and  her  long  dark  hair  was  undone. 
She  looked  strikingly  handsome,  but  the  thick  black 
strands  hanging  down  on  either  side  of  the  white 
face  recalled  to  Mary  a  picture  in  the  library  at 
Lady  MacMillan's.  It  was  a  clever  painting  of  the 
Medusa,  level-eyed,  with  a  red  mouth  like  a  wound, 
and  dimly  seen,  pale  glimmering  features,  between 
the  lazy  writhing  of  dark  snakes.  The  thing  had 
fascinated  Mary  in  her  impressionable  schoolgirl 
days,  but  now  she  tried  to  huddle  the  idea  quickly 
out  of  her  head,  for  it  seemed  disloyal  and  even  dis- 
gusting in  connection  with  her  hostess. 

"I  saw  your  light  under  the  door,"  Lady  Dauntrey 
said,  "and  I  thought  maybe  you  wouldn't  mind  my 
sitting  with  you  for  a  bit.  I  do  feel  so  beastly  down 
on  my  luck,  and  you  always  cheer  me  up,  you're  so 
different  from  any  of  the  others.' 

Mary  had  begun,  for  perhaps  the  twentieth  time,  a 
letter  to  Reverend  Mother;  but  she  was  half  glad  of 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     339 

an  excuse  to  put  it  away  unfinished.  She  too  was  in 
a  wrapper,  with  her  shining  hair  over  her  shoulders, 
but  she  suggested  a  St.  Ursula  rather  than  a  Medusa. 
There  was  no  comfortable  chair  in  the  room,  but  she 
drew  the  only  one  whose  legs  could  be  depended 
upon,  in  front  of  a  dying  wood  fire  for  Lady  Dauntrey. 

Eve  sat  for  a  few  moments  brushing  her  hair  in  a 
lazy,  aimless  way,  and  staring  at  the  red  logs.  "Per- 
haps," she  said  at  last,  "I  shall  have  to  cheer  you  up, 
though,  when  you've  heard  what  I've  come  for. 
Might  as  well  out  with  it,  I  suppose !  I  know  /  can't 
bear  having  had  news  'broken'  to  me.  My  husband 
told  you  he  was  seedy,  didn't  he?  —  and  hadn't 
meant  to  play,  so  he'd  banked  all  the  money.  He 
hadn't  the  courage,  poor  chap,  to  tell  you  what 
really  happened.  He's  simply  sick  over  it,  so  I 
offered  to  see  you.  In  a  way,  it  was  true,  what  he 
said.  The  bank  has  got  the  money,  only  —  it's  the 
Casino  bank.  Dauntrey  had  an  awful  debacle  to- 
day, the  first  time  since  he's  been  playing  for  you, 
and  lost  everything;  not  only  your  capital,  of  course, 
but  his  own  too.  It's  your  money  he's  so  sick  about, 
though.  He  could  stand  the  loss  of  his  own,  though 
it's  a  blow,  and  I  don't  quite  know  what  we  shall  do. 
But  to  lose  yours!  He's  almost  off  his  head.  If  it 
weren't  for  me,  and  my  saying  you'd  forgive  him,  I 
believe  he'd  blow  his  brains  out." 

"Oh,  don't  speak  of  anything  so  horrible!"  Mary 
cried.  "Of  course  I  forgive  him." 

"He's  afraid  you  may  think  he  has  juggled  away 
your  money.  When  you  asked  him  for  it  to-night 


340     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

he  was  already  wondering  how  you'd  take  the  loss; 
but  your  proposal  coming  suddenly  like  that  bowled 
him  over,  and  he  made  an  excuse  to  put  off  the 
evil  hour.  What  a  weird  coincidence  you  should 
have  wanted  your  capital  back  the  very  day  he'd 
lost  the  lot!  He's  so  sorry  you  didn't  think  of  it 
yesterday;  for  then  it  would  have  been  safe  in  your 
hands  now,  unless  you'd  lost  it  yourself,  which  I 
can't  help  thinking,  my  dear,  you  probably  would, 
the  way  things  were  going  with  you  before." 

"I  daresay  I  should  have  lost  the  money  if  he 
hadn't,"  said  Mary  kindly.  In  her  heart,  she 
wished  that  she  had  been  given  the  chance,  as  at 
least  she  would  then  have  had  some  amusement, 
before  the  money  was  gone.  And  certainly  it  was 
an  odd  coincidence  that  the  loss  should  have  hap- 
pened just  before  she  had  suggested  playing  for 
herself  again.  She  could  not  help  remembering 
Dodo's  parting  shot  at  the  Dauntreys.  She  wished 
that  the  idea  had  not  been  put  into  her  head;  for 
though  she  would  not  believe  that  Lord  Dauntrey 
had  robbed  her,  she  saw  that  it  was  a  mistake  to 
have  lent  him  the  capital  —  a  mistake  from  his  point 
of  view,  as  well  as  her  own.  The  money  was  gone; 
and  even  if  there  were  something  wrong  in  the  way 
of  its  going,  she  could  not  prove  the  wrong.  Nor 
did  she  wish  to  try.  She  wished  to  believe  the  story 
Lady  Dauntrey  had  told,  which  might  easily  be  true. 
Yet  there  would  always  remain  the  little  crawling 
snake  of  doubt;  and  that  was  not  fair  to  Lord  Daun- 
trey. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     341 

"It's  too,  too  bad,  and  we  are  both  terribly  upset," 
Eve  went  on  heavily.  "But  it's  the  fortune  of  war, 
isn't  it?  And,  thank  goodness,  you've  got  plenty 
left  of  what  the  Casino's  given  you,  I  hope,  in  spite 
of  that  awful  Christmas  night." 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  got  more,  in  Smith's  Bank,"  said 
Mary.  "I  can  draw  some  out  to-morrow,  and  begin 
playing  again.  Tell  Lord  Dauntrey  he  mustn't  mind 
as  far  as  I'm  concerned." 

"I  did  tell  him  you'd  be  sporting,  and  that  you 
were  a  good  plucked  one,  but  I  couldn't  console  him. 
The  truth  is,  our  part  of  the  loss  is  pretty  serious. 
The  Casino  didn't  give  us  any  of  our  capital,  you 
know,  and  we  aren't  rich.  We've  lost  an  awful  lot 
this  season.  Monte  Carlo's  been  disastrous  to  us 
in  every  way." 

"But  I  thought  Lord  Dauntrey  had  done  well 
with  his  system?"  Mary  ventured. 

"  Oh ,  the  system ! "  Eve  caught  herself  up,  quickly. 
"Yes,  that  was  all  right.  Only  we  never  made 
much,  as  he  couldn't  afford  high  stakes.  But  he's 
so  good-natured  and  generous.  He  lent  money 
to  others  to  gamble  with  —  I  won't  say  who,  though 
perhaps  you  can  guess  —  and  never  got  a  penny 
back.  And  some  of  the  people  we've  had  staying 
here  ran  up  big  bills  and  skipped  without  paying 
them.  We  simply  had  to  let  them  go,  and  make  the 
best  of  it.  Oh,  dear  Miss  Grant  —  Mary  —  this 
is  a  bad  time  to  ask  a  favour,  I  know,  when  my 
husband's  just  come  a  cropper  with  your  money,  as 
well  as  his  own;  but  I  was  never  one  to  beat  about 


342     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  bush.  And  you're  a  regular  brick.  You're  in 
luck,  and  we're  out  —  down  and  out !  I  wonder  — 
would  you  be  inclined  to  lend  us  —  say,  a  thousand 
pounds,  just  to  tide  over  the  few  weeks  till  our  divi- 
dends come?  We'd  give  you  good  security,  of  course. 
We  have  shares  in  South  African  diamond  mines." 

"I  think  I  might  be  able  to  do  that,"  said  Mary, 
who  could  not  bear  to  see  Lady  Dauntrey  humble 
herself  to  plead 

"How  good  you  are!"  Eve  exclaimed.  "You're  a 
real  friend,  the  only  one  we've  got.  The  rest  are 
sharks,  or  cats.  It  —  it  won't  run  you  down  low  to 
let  us  have  a  thousand?  "  She  fixed  her  eyes  sharply 
on  Mary,  under  the  shadow  of  her  falling  hair,  which 
she  brushed  as  if  mechanically. 

"Oh  no,  I'm  sure  I  can  manage  it  very  well." 

"And  keep  enough  to  go  on  playing  with?" 

"Yes.  I  don't  quite  know  how  much  I  have  in 
the  bank.  I've  given  away  a  good  deal  here  and 
there,  I  suppose,  besides  what  I  lost  —  and  this  now. 
But  there's  sure  to  be  plenty." 

"Suppose,  though,  you  go  on  losing?  Of  course 
I  hope  you  won't.  But  there's  that  to  think  of. 
Still,  I  presume  you  needn't  worry  if  the  Casino 
should  get  back  every  penny  they've  given  you?  I 
hope  you  have  ever  and  ever  so  much  of  your  own. 
I  think  I  heard  you  telling  the  Wardropp  girl  — 
wretched  little  beast !  —  that  you  had  a  big  legacy 
left  you?" 

"I  believe  I  did  tell  her  so,  in  the  train,"  said 
Mary.  "I  don't  remember  speaking  of  it  since." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     343 

"I  couldn't  help  overhearing  what  you  said  then. 
You  were  both  talking  at  the  top  of  your  voices. 
Well,  I'm  glad  for  you.  If  you're  wise,  you'll  put 
yourself  out  of  temptation's  way,  and  won't  keep 
much  beyond  your  winnings  where  you  can  lay 
hands  on  it." 

"I  came  here  with  very  little,"  Mary  confessed. 
"You  see,  I'd  meant  to  go  on  to  Italy." 

"And  you  were  so  lucky  at  first,  that  you've  lived 
on  your  winnings,  and  have  never  had  to  write  a 
cheque  on  your  own  bank  in  England  or  anywhere?" 

"Not  one!"  laughed  Mary.  "Since  I  came  into 
my  money,  I  haven't  drawn  half  a  dozen  cheques  — 
except  in  the  cheque-book  I  got  at  Smith's,  after  Mr. 
Schuyler  and  Mr.  Carleton  advised  me  to  keep  my 
winnings  there." 

"You  fortunate  girl!  And  think  of  all  the  lovely 
jewellery  you've  bought,  too!  Of  course  I'm  glad 
for  our  sakes,  that  your  friends  advised  you  to  store 
the  best  things  in  the  bank,  when  you're  not  wear- 
ing them,  for  one  never  knows  about  one's  servants; 
and  there  are  such  creatures  as  burglars.  Still,  I 
wonder  you  can  bear  having  those  heavenly  things 
out  of  your  sight.  /  couldn't!" 

"I've  felt  rather  tired  of  my  jewellery  lately,"  said 
Mary.  "I  hardly  know  why.  But  I  don't  seem  to 
take  the  pleasure  in  wearing  it  that  I  did  at  first, 
when  it  was  new  to  me." 

Lady  Dauntrey  rose  from  the  creaky  chair  with  a 
sigh,  and  a  slight  shiver.  "You  look  too  much  like 
a  saint  for  jewellery  to  suit  you  as  well  as  it  does 


344     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

other  people  —  me  for  instance!"  she  said.  "And 
you  are  a  saint.  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you 
enough.  My  poor  boy  will  be  grateful!  Well,  I 
must  go.  You  ought  to  have  more  wood  on  your 
fire.  But  I  suppose  it's  gone.  Everything  always 
is  in  this  house,  if  it's  anything  one  wants.  If  ever 
you're  in  trouble  of  your  own,  and  need  a  couple  of 
friends  to  stand  by  you,  you've  got  us.  Let's  shake 
on  it!" 

She  put  out  her  hand  and  drew  Mary  toward  her. 
If  the  girl  had  not  shrunk  away  almost  impercepti- 
bly, she  would  have  bent  down  and  kissed  her. 


XXI 

THE  cure  of  Roquebrune  learned  in  an  odd  way 
that  his  Principino  was  gambling;  just  in  the  queer 
roundabout  way  that  secret  things  become  public 
on  the  Riviera. 

His  housekeeper  had  a  sister.  That  sister  was  the 
wife  of  a  man  who  kept  cows  at  Cap  Martin,  sold 
milk  which  the  cows  gave,  and  butter  which  he  said 
that  he  made  (gaining  praise  thereby),  though  it  was 
really  imported  at  night  in  carts  from  Italy. 

The  daughter  was  eighteen,  and  it  was  her  duty  to 
carry  milk  to  the  customers  of  her  father,  who  did 
business  under  the  name  of  Verando,  Emilio.  She 
was  a  beauty,  and  her  fame  spread  until  people  of  all 
classes  made  errands  to  the  laiterie  of  Verando, 
Emilio,  to  stare  at  the  dark-browed  girl  who  was  like  a 
splendid  Ligurian  storm-cloud.  When  the  twelve 
white  cows  of  Emilio  were  occasionally  allowed  an 
outing,  and  could  be  seen  glimmering  among  the 
ancient  olive  trees,  the  Storm-cloud  walked  with 
them;  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  gray-blue  of 
mountain  and  sky  was  framed  like  star  sapphires  in 
the  silver  of  gnarled  trunks  and  feathery  branches; 
or  else  early  in  the  evening,  when  the  moon-dawn 
had  come.  The  cows  were  supposed  to  chaperon 
Mademoiselle  Nathalie  Verando,  who  was  by  blood 

345 


346     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

more  Signorina  than  Mademoiselle;  but  they  coun- 
tenanced several  flirtations  which  were  observed 
by  the  caretaker  of  Mirasole,  the  villa  presently  to 
be  occupied  by  Prince  Angelo  Delia  Robbia  and  his 
bride. 

The  caretaker,  consumed  with  jealousy  because 
one  of  the  flirters  had  flirted  also  with  her  daughter, 
told  everybody  that  Nathalie  Verando  had  been 
kissed  in  the  olive  woods.  Jim  Schuyler's  cook  was 
a  friend  of  Luciola,  the  cure's  housekeeper.  When 
she  heard  of  the  incident  in  the  Verando  family,  she 
told  Nathalie's  aunt  that  Mrs.  Winter,  the  chap- 
lain's wife  at  Monte  Carlo,  was  in  need  of  a  parlour 
maid.  The  maid  must  be  pretty,  because  Mrs. 
Winter  could  not  bear  to  have  ugly  people  about  her. 
They  ruined  her  appetite.  This  peculiarity  was 
known  at  Stellamare,  because  Mrs.  Winter's  cousin, 
Mr.  Carleton,  was  visiting  there.  Would  it  not  be 
wise  to  put  Nathalie  into  service,  at  a  distance  from 
Cap  Martin,  so  that  everything  might  be  forgotten? 

Mrs.  Winter,  to  whom  the  suggestion  was  made  by 
her  cook  (cousin  to  the  cook  at  Stellamare),  snapped 
at  it  eagerly.  She  had  been  out  walking  with  Dick, 
and  they  had  both  seen  the  beautiful  dark  Storm- 
cloud  chaperoned  by  the  white  cows,  among  the 
olives. 

Nathalie  became  femme  de  chambre  in  the  apart- 
ment of  Mrs.  Winter.  She  was  so  charmed  with  her 
mistress,  and  with  certain  hats  and  blouses  that  Rose 
bestowed  upon  her,  that  she  did  not  much  miss  the 
flirtations.  But,  being  a  good  Catholic,  and  having 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     347 

been  confirmed  by  the  cure  of  Roquebrune,  her 
conscience  asked  itself  whether  it  could  be  right  to 
live  in  a  household  not  only  Protestant,  but  the 
abode  of  a  priest  who  spread  heresy.  It  occurred  to 
her  that  she  would  go  and  put  this  question  to  the 
cure,  her  spiritual  father;  and  she  was  not  deterred 
from  her  resolve  by  the  fact  that  Achille  Gonzales 
had  finished  his  military  service  and  returned  to 
visit  his  family.  Achille's  father  was  the  Maire  of 
Roquebrune,  a  peasant  landowner  of  wealth  whose 
pride  was  in  his  son  and  in  their  Spanish  ancestry, 
which  dated  back  to  the  days  of  Saracen  fighting  on 
the  coast. 

Achille  was  a  great  match;  and  the  white  cows  had 
nibbled  mint  and  clover  from  his  hands  before  he 
went  away  with  his  regiment  to  Algeria.  His  father 
was  about  to  make  over  to  him  some  land  adjoining 
the  cure's  garden,  and  the  young  man  was  there 
planting  orange  trees  on  fine  days. 

Nathalie  chose  a  fine  afternoon  to  ask  Mrs.  Winter 
if  she  might  go  to  Roquebrune. 

The  cure,  who  was  broad-minded,  set  her  heart  at 
rest  about  the  possible  iniquity  of  her  service.  He 
said  that  different  religions  were  all  paths  leading 
up  a  steep  hill,  in  the  same  direction,  only  some  were 
more  roundabout  than  others.  Nathalie  need  not 
after  all  have  taken  the  trouble  to  climb  the  mule 
track  in  the  afternoon  sun;  yet  she  was  not  sorry  she 
had  come.  Seldom  had  she  looked  so  beautiful  as 
when  her  aunt  was  giving  her  orange-syrup  with 
water  after  her  talk  with  the  cure,  the  oranges  being 


348     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

a  present  to  the  house  from  Achille  Gonzales.  On 
the  table  in  the  little  kitchen  stood  a  silver  photo- 
graph frame  which  Luciola  was  going  to  clean,  as  the 
salt  air  had  tarnished  its  brightness.  In  the  frame 
was  a  photograph  of  Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia 
as  a  boy  of  eighteen;  but  so  little  had  eleven  years 
changed  Vanno,  that  Nathalie  recognized  the  pict- 
ure at  once. 

"Ah,"  she  exclaimed,  "surely  that  is  the  hand- 
some, tall  young  gentleman  who  walks  over  often  to 
look  at  the  Villa  Mirasole,  near  our  laiterie:  the 
brother  of  the  prince  who  is  coming  soon  to  live 
there." 

"Why,  yes,  it  is  he,"  replied  her  aunt.  "He  is  a 
friend  of  our  cure's,  and  was  once  his  pupil.  He  is 
the  Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia,  a  very  noble, 
good  young  man." 

"I  am  not  sure  he  is  so  very  good,"  retorted 
Nathalie,  pleased  to  know  something  which  her 
aunt  perhaps  did  not  know,  about  a  person  of 
importance. 

Luciola's  tiny  body  quivered  with  indignation. 
"Not  good!  How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing  of  our 
cure's  Prince?  What  can  you  have  to  tell  of  a  great 
noble  in  his  position  —  you  —  a  little  no-one-at-all?  " 

The  Storm-cloud  lowered.  "There  are  those  as 
important  as  your  Prince  who  do  not  think  me  a 
'little  no-one-at-all.'  The  grand  folk  who  come  to 
Cap  Martin  to  call  upon  our  lady  the  Empress 
Eugenie  tell  each  other  about  me;  English  dukes  and 
duchesses  they  are,  and  Spanish  grandees,  and  high 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     349 

nobility  from  all  over  the  world,  who  visit  the  Cap  to 
do  her  reverence.  They  make  one  excuse  or  another 
to  have  a  look  at  your  'little  no-one-at-all.'  And  a 
famous  American  artist  has  sketched  me,  in  the 
olive  woods.  He  would  not  let  me  run  home  even 
for  five  minutes  to  change  into  my  best  dress,  nor 
would  he  permit  that  I  put  away  my  milk  cans: 
that  was  my  one  regret!  As  for  your  Prince,  he 
passed,  taking  a  short  cut  to  the  villa,  while  I  posed. 
Do  you  think  he  went  on  without  looking?  No;  he 
stopped  and  spoke  with  the  artist." 

"Then  that  was  because  they  were  acquaintances,'* 
snapped  Luciola. 

"It  is  true  they  knew  each  other.  But  it  was  not 
for  the  beaux  yeux  of  the  big  red-bearded  artist  that 
the  Prince  stopped.  It  was  to  look  at  my  face  in  the 
sketch-book.  There  were  other  faces  there,  too, 
and  on  the  page  next  to  mine  the  profile  of  a  most 
lovely  lady,  all  blond  like  an  angel,  whose  name  the 
Prince  knew,  for  he  and  the  artist  talked  of  her,  and 
called  her  Miss  Grant.  I  have  heard  much  conver- 
sation about  her  since  then,  at  Madame  Winter's, 
at  tea-time  in  the  afternoon  when  I  bring  in  the  tray 
and  give  cakes  to  visitors.  They  all,  especially 
Madame's  cousin,  speak  of  Miss  Grant,  and  she  is 
celebrated  for  her  beauty  as  well  as  for  her  gambling : 
yet  your  Prince  looked  as  much  at  my  picture  as  at 
hers,  quite  as  much;  and  the  artist  could  have  taken 
no  more  pains  with  me  if  I  had  been  a  queen.  So  you 
see  what  other  people  think.  And  as  it  happens,  I 
do  know  a  great  deal  about  this  Prince." 


350     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Nothing  against  him,  then,  I  am  sure,"  per- 
sisted Luciola,  though  somewhat  impressed.  "Mon- 
sieur le  Cure  loves  him,  which  alone  proves  that  he 
is  good." 

"Does  Monsieur  le  Cure  consider  it  good  to  gamble 
at  Monte  Carlo?"  inquired  Nathalie,  with  assumed 
meekness. 

"  Of  course  not.  Prince  Giovanni  would  not  stoop 
to  such  a  pursuit." 

"Oh,  would  he  not?  That  is  all  you  know  of  the 
world,  here  on  your  mountain,  dear  aunt.  Me,  I 
hear  everything  that  goes  on,  though  I  live  in  the 
house  of  a  cleric.  Madame's  cousin  knows  well  your 
Prince,  who,  it  is  true,  did  not  gamble  at  first,  and 
seemed  to  scorn  the  Casino,  so  I  heard  from  Monsieur 
Carleton  while  I  poured  the  tea.  But  for  some 
reason  he  has  taken  to  play,  the  Prince.  He  is 
always  in  the  Casino.  He  has  refused  to  live  in  the 
villa  at  Cap  Martin  with  his  brother  and  sister-in- 
law,  who  have  now  arrived,  because  he  hates  to  be 
too  far  from  the  Casino,  though  perhaps  they  may 
not  know  why.  Monsieur  Carleton  has  told  Ma- 
dame that  not  once  have  they  been  inside  its  doors, 
or  shown  themselves  at  any  Monte  Carlo  restaurant. 
Oh,  your  Prince  is  a  wild  gambler,  aunt,  and  loses 
much  money,  which  is  a  silly  way  of  amusing  one's 
self,  in  my  opinion.  And  that  is  why  I  say  he  is  not 
so  good  as  you  and  Monsieur  le  Cure  think  him,  you 
who  are  so  innocent." 

"I  do  not  believe  one  word  of  your  foolish  gossip," 
was  the  only  satisfaction  Nathalie  got  from  Luciola. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     351 

But  when  the  girl  had  gone,  the  little  old  woman  was 
in  such  haste  to  retell  the  tale  to  the  cure,  that  she  did 
not  even  throw  a  glance  at  Nathalie.  If  she  had, 
she  might  have  seen  the  Storm-cloud  brightening 
when,  quite  by  accident,  she  was  met  by  Achille 
Gonzales  within  a  few  yards  of  the  cure's  door. 

Old  as  she  was,  Luciola  had  an  excellent  memory 
for  anything  that  interested  her,  though  she  was  ca- 
pable of  forgetting  what  was  best  forgotten  in  a 
household,  such  as  the  breaking  of  a  dish,  or  the 
reason  why  the  cat  had  been  left  out  of  doors  all 
night  in  the  rain.  She  repeated  what  she  had  heard 
from  her  niece,  almost  word  for  word,  wandering  a 
little  sometimes  from  the  straight  path  of  the  narra- 
tive into  side  tracks,  such  as  the  anecdote  of  the 
artist  who  took  as  much  pains  with  Nathalie's  por- 
trait as  with  that  of  the  great  beauty,  Miss  Grant, 
who  was  always  gambling  at  the  Casino,  the  place 
where  wicked  people  said  that  Prince  Giovanni 
played.  No  exciting  detail  did  Luciola  neglect. 

The  cure  listened  to  the  end,  without  interrupting, 
greatly  to  the  housekeeper's  disappointment,  as  she 
had  made  her  narrative  piquant  in  the  hope  of  tempt- 
ing her  master  to  ask  questions.  But  he  showed  no 
emotion  of  any  kind,  and  only  remarked  at  last  that 
Luciola  was  quite  right  not  to  believe  gossip  about 
the  Prince,  or  indeed  evil  of  any  one. 

Nevertheless  her  story  left  him  reflective.  He 
thought  it  not  impossible  that  Vanno  was  gambling; 
and  if  it  were  the  case,  several  things  would  be  ex- 
plainable. It  was  many  days  since  the  Prince  had 


352     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

come  to  Roquebrune,  although  the  cure  had  done 
what  he  did  not  wish  to  do,  in  order  to  please  his 
one-time  pupil. 

Vanno  was  well  aware  that  it  was  not  the  cure's 
affair  to  call  upon  strangers  out  of  his  own  parish, 
except  by  special  request.  To  call  uninvited  upon 
a  person  in  Monaco  might  seem  to  the  cure  and 
abbe  of  San  Carlo  like  an  intrusion:  and  to  present 
himself  at  a  hotel,  inquiring  for  a  young  lady  whom 
he  did  not  even  know  to  be  a  Catholic,  had  been  an 
ordeal.  This,  for  the  Principino's  sake,  he  had  done 
not  once  but  twice,  as  Vanno  knew.  And  in  truth 
the  Prince  had  seemed  too  preoccupied  with  disap- 
pointment because  Miss  Grant  was  not  at  home  to 
express  much  gratitude  when  the  cure  told  him  of 
the  two  calls. 

Not  since  the  third  day  before  Christmas  had 
Vanno  come  to  Roquebrune,  nor  had  he  written  his 
old  friend;  and  certainly  the  cure  had  wondered,  for 
now  the  new  year  was  more  than  a  week  old;  and 
always  the  weather  had  been  of  that  brilliance  the 
peasant  women  consider  necessary  after  Noel  for 
the  washing  of  the  Christ  child's  clothes  by  the 
Sainte  Vierge,  His  mother.  There  had  been  no 
such  excuse  as  rain  to  prevent  a  visit;  but  at  last 
the  cure  guessed  at  a  reason  which  might  have  kept 
Vanno  from  wishing  to  see  him. 

On  New  Year's  Day  —  the  great  fete  —  the  priest 
had  called  in  the  afternoon  on  Prince  and  Princess 
Delia  Robbia,  at  the  Villa  Mirasole,  knowing  that 
their  arrival  had  been  delayed  until  the  night  before. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     353 

Vanno,  who  had  lunched  with  them,  had  already 
gone;  and  it  was  no  news  to  the  cure  that  the  younger 
brother  was  not  living  at  Cap  Martin.  Angelo  re- 
ferred to  this  change  of  plan,  saying  laughingly  that 
no  doubt  the  foolish  boy  feared  to  interrupt  a  tete-a- 
tete.  Nonsense  this,  of  course;  for  the  honeymoon 
had  extended  itself  over  months,  and  the  Princess 
was  anxious  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of  her  new 
brother-in-law.  Angelo,  too,  particularly  wished 
Vanno  to  love  Marie  as  a  sister,  and  report  well  of 
her  to  the  Duke,  whose  favourite  he  was.  It  was 
no  secret  that  Vanno  could  do  what  he  liked  with  his 
father,  although  no  other  soul  was  permitted  to  take 
liberties  with  the  Duke. 

Nothing  had  been  left  unsaid  which  might  assure 
Vanno  of  his  welcome,  yet  he  insisted  on  remaining 
at  some  Monte  Carlo  hotel,  only  coming  over  to 
lunch  or  dinner,  though  Angelo  quite  understood  that 
his  brother  had  promised  to  live  with  him. 

The  cure,  soothing  the  elder  and  defending  the 
younger  gayly,  thought  in  his  heart  that  he  knew 
better  than  Angelo  why  Vanno  clung  to  Monte 
Carlo.  He  supposed  Miss  Grant  to  be  the  attrac- 
tion, but  this  was  the  Principino's  affair,  and  the  cure 
kept  the  secret.  Miss  Grant's  name  was  not  men- 
tioned. Evidently  Prince  and  Princess  Delia  Robbia 
had  not  heard  of  her. 

Vanno's  infatuation  for  the  girl  did  not  seem  a 
light  thing  to  the  cure,  and  he  thought  of  it  anxiously, 
hoping  and  sometimes  believing  that  the  young  man 
would  be  strong  enough  to  hold  himself  aloof,  unless 


354     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Miss  Grant  should  show  herself  worthy  of  a  noble, 
not  a  degrading,  love.  The  priest  had  kept  his 
promise  in  going  to  see  her;  but  until  this  rumour  of 
Vanno's  gambling  reached  him  he  had  not  been  able 
to  regret  his  failure.  The  responsibility  of  judging  and 
truthfully  reporting  his  opinion  of  a  young  woman 
had  weighed  heavily  upon  his  spirits.  Supposing 
the  cure  had  said  to  himself  that  he  saw  Miss  Grant 
and  thought  nothing  but  good  of  her?  The  Prin- 
cipino  might  on  the  strength  of  his  report  be  reckless 
enough  to  propose  marriage.  A  good  and  beautiful 
girl  might  still  be  an  unsuitable  match  for  a  son  of 
the  Duke  of  Rienzi;  and  on  the  priest's  head  would, 
in  a  sense,  lie  the  blame  if  she  became  the  wife  of 
Prince  Vanno.  Altogether,  the  cure  had  been  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  saints  had  perhaps  had  a 
hand  in  sending  him  twice  to  call  when  Miss  Grant 
was  not  visible.  Now,  however,  he  took  himself  to 
task.  He  had  been  careless.  He  had  considered 
his  own  selfish  feelings  too  much  in  this  matter.  If 
the  Principino  had  taken  to  gambling  (a  vice  he  had 
once  sneered  at  as  a  refuge  for  the  destitute  in  intel- 
lect) there  must  have  been  some  extraordinary  in- 
centive. The  cure  was  sure  of  this;  and  granting  it 
without  mental  argument,  he  set  himself  to  the  task 
of  deduction. 

"One  would  say  I  flattered  myself  by  thinking 
that  I  had  been  born  a  detective!"  he  remarked 
aloud  to  his  favourite  rose-bush,  when  Luciola  had 
emptied  her  news-bag  for  him,  in  the  garden.  "Me, 
a  detective?  Heaven  forbid!  Yet  at  the  same  time, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     355 

if  I  have  brain-power  to  be  of  service  to  my  Princi- 
pino,  the  saints  give  me  wit  to  use  it." 

Then  he  thought  very  hard,  sitting  in  his  arbour, 
on  the  wooden  seat  which  gave  a  view  over  the  whole 
coast,  with  its  mountains  whose  feet  were  promon- 
tories. Half  amused,  half  alarmed  lest  the  pretence 
were  sin,  he  tried  to  put  himself  in  Vanno's  place; 
and  so  doing  it  was  borne  in  upon  his  mind  that 
something  of  importance  must  have  happened  be- 
tween the  Prince  and  Miss  Grant.  She  had  been 
gambling  all  the  while,  though  Vanno  had  not  at  first 
gambled :  but  if  they  had  met  —  if  there  had  been  a 
scene  which  had  driven  the  Prince  to  desperation  — 
might  that  not  explain  the  change?  Had  she  def- 
initely proved  herself  unworthy,  or  had  Vanno 
openly  done  her  some  injustice,  which  had  wrought 
bitterness  for  both?  In  any  case,  the  cure  decided 
that  he  had  been  mistaken  in  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence for  himself.  After  all,  perhaps  it  had  been 
meant  for  him  to  meet  Miss  Grant,  and  he  had  been 
indifferent,  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  which 
bade  him  try  again  and  yet  again. 

He  resolved  to  call  upon  the  girl,  not  only  once 
more,  but  many  times  if  necessary,  and  when  there 
was  something  to  report,  he  would  have  an  excuse 
to  go  and  see  Vanno. 

All  this,  indirectly  through  Nathalie  Verando's 
walks  with  the  white  cows,  in  the  olive  woods  of 
Cap  Martin,  and  more  directly  through  the  tarnish- 
ing of  a  silver  frame  on  an  old  photograph. 


XXII 

EVE  DAUNTREY  was  in  the  act  of  opening  the 
door  as  the  cure  of  Roquebrune  put  out  his  hand  to 
touch  the  bell  at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista. 

Somehow  it  was  a  shock  to  find  herself  face  to 
face  with  a  priest,  on  her  own  doorstep;  and  before 
she  could  quite  control  her  nerves,  she  broke  out 
with  a  brusque,  "What  do  you  want?" 

The  cure  looked  calmly  at  her,  his  pleasant,  sun- 
burned face  betraying  none  of  the  surprise  he  felt 
at  such  a  reception.  In  his  modest  way  he  was  a 
quick  and  keen  observer,  though  he  had  never  de- 
liberately prided  himself  on  being  a  judge  of  charac- 
ter. It  seemed  to  him  that  the  handsome,  hard- 
eyed  woman  with  the  white  face  and  scarlet  lips 
was  startled  at  the  sight  of  his  black  cassock,  as  if 
she  had  done  something  which  she  would  not  like 
to  have  a  priest  find  out. 

This  made  him  spring  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
had  been  brought  up  as  a  Catholic,  but  was  one  no 
longer. 

"I  have  called  upon  a  lady  who,  I  am  told,  is 
staying  here,"  he  explained  politely  in  French. 
"Miss  Grant." 

"Miss  Grant?"  Eve  could  not  help  showing  that 
she  was  puzzled  and  not  pleased.  "Yes,  Miss 

356 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     357 

Grant  is  visiting  me, "  she  admitted.  Then,  with 
a  sudden  impulse  which  she  could  hardly  have  ex- 
plained, quickly  added:  "Unfortunately  she's  out. 
Is  there  any  message  you  would  like  to  leave?" 

As  she  asked  this  question,  Lady  Dauntrey 
stared  with  almost  ostentatious  frankness  straight 
into  the  cure's  face,  and  her  voice  had  lost  its  sharp- 
ness. She  was  dressed  in  purple  velvet,  and  wore  a 
large  purple  hat.  The  rich  dark  hue  gave  her  light 
eyes  a  very  curious  colour,  more  green  than  gray; 
and  as  she  stood  on  the  doorstep,  tall  and  somehow 
formidable,  the  cure  thought  that  she  looked  Egyp- 
tian, an  elemental  creature  who  might  have  lived 
by  the  Nile  when  the  Sphinx  was  new. 

The  afternoon  sunshine  streamed  into  her  eyes, 
and  caused  her  pupils  to  shrink  until  they  appeared 
to  be  no  larger  than  black  pinheads.  Perhaps,  the 
cure  acknowledged  to  himself,  it  was  only  this  that 
gave  them  a  deceitful  effect;  nevertheless  he  felt 
suddenly  sure  that  for  some  reason  she  was  lying 
to  him.  He  did  not  believe  that  Miss  Grant  was  out. 

"This  lady  does  not  wish  me  to  meet  her  guest," 
he  told  himself.  But  aloud  he  said  that  he  regretted 
missing  Miss  Grant;  and  there  was  no  message, 
thanks,  except  that  the  cure  of  Roquebrune  had 
called  again.  He  was  making  up  his  mind  to  a 
certain  course,  and  stood  aside  politely,  meaning  to 
let  Lady  Dauntrey  pass,  and  then  follow  her  down 
the  steps  of  her  villa.  What  he  would  do  after 
that  was  his  own  affair;  for  with  those  who  are 
subtle  it  is  permitted  to  be  subtle  in  return.  Lady 


358     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Dauntrey,  however,  seemed  unwilling  to  let  him 
linger.  Instead  of  passing  him,  she  asked,  "Are  you 
coming  my  way?" 

"As  you  tell  me,  Madame,  that  Miss  Grant  is 
out,  I  will  go  on  to  the  Church  of  Sainte  Devote, 
which  is  not  far  away,"  the  cure  answered. 

"Oh!"  The  slight  look  of  strain  on  Lady  Daun- 
trey's  face  passed,  as  if  her  muscles  relaxed.  "Then 
we  go  in  different  directions.  I  am  walking  up  the 
hill  to  Monte  Carlo.  Good  afternoon.  I  will  re- 
member to  give  Miss  Grant  your  message. " 

They  parted,  but  Lady  Dauntrey  turned  her  head 
twice,  each  time  to  see  the  cure's  black-robed  figure 
marching  at  a  good  pace  away  from  the  villa.  Then 
she  went  on  faster;  and  the  importance  of  the  in- 
cident began  to  fade  from  her  mind.  Not  that  it 
had  ever  had  any  real  importance,  she  assured  her- 
self. Only,  she  hated  priests  as  she  would  hate  to 
see  a  raven  fly  over  her  head.  They  seemed  some- 
how ominous;  and  she  could  not  understand  why  a 
member  of  the  interfering  tribe  wanted  to  see  Miss 
Grant,  unless  to  try  and  get  her  away  into  less 
worldly  surroundings.  Lady  Dauntrey  did  not 
wish  Mary  to  go;  and  she  was  glad  she  had  acted  on 
impulse,  saying  that  the  girl  was  out.  It  was  lucky 
that  she  had  met  the  priest,  for  had  he  arrived  a 
minute  sooner  or  a  minute  later,  a  servant  would 
have  told  him  that  Miss  Grant  was  in.  Eve  de- 
cided that  she  would  forget  to  mention  the  cure  of 
Roquebrune's  visit. 

Having  said  that  he  would  go  to  the  Church  of 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     359 

Sainte  Devote,  the  cure  conscientiously  kept  his 
word.  Luckily  the  Villa  Bella  Vista  was  not  far 
from  the  deep,  dim  ravine  where  the  patron  saint  of 
Monaco  was  supposed  to  have  drifted  ashore  in  a 
boat,  piloted  by  a  sacred  dove,  and  rowed  by  faith- 
ful followers  after  suffering  martyrdom  in  Corsica. 
The  cure  was  fond  of  the  strange  little  church  of 
sweet  chimes,  almost  hidden  between  immense,  con- 
cealing walls  of  rock;  but  to-day  he  merely  paid  his 
respects  to  the  saint  and  quickly  went  his  way  again. 
Twenty  minutes  after  parting  from  Lady  Dauntrey, 
he  rang  the  bell  of  her  villa,  and  was  told  by  an  un- 
tidy servant  that  Miss  Grant  was  at  home. 

Mary  was  waiting  in  the  house  to  receive  Mrs. 
Winter,  who  had  been  persuaded  by  Carleton  to  over- 
look the  girl's  neglect,  and  to  call  once  more,  with 
him.  Dick  had  asked  Mary  not  to  speak  of  the 
visit  in  advance  to  Lady  Dauntrey,  as  his  cousin 
wanted  a  chance  for  a  talk,  uninterrupted  by  the 
mistress  of  the  villa;  and  Mary  half  guiltily,  though 
with  a  certain  pleasure,  had  consented.  Instinc- 
tively she  guessed  that  Eve  would  have  taken  the 
call  for  herself,  and  that  Mrs.  Winter  would  have 
found  little  time  to  chat  with  any  one  else.  It  was 
hateful  to  be  hypercritical,  Mary  felt,  yet  she  had 
begun  to  see  that  Lady  Dauntrey  was  curiously 
jealous  of  her;  that  she  did  not  like  to  see  her  talk 
with  strangers,  or  alone  even  with  other  guests  of 
the  house. 

When  the  cure  of  Roquebrune  was  ushered  in, 
Mary  was  expecting  Dick  to  arrive  with  his  cousin; 


360     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

but  for  the  moment  she  was  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room which  she  had  made  less  depressing  by  a 
generous  gift  of  flowers.  The  alertness  with  which 
the  girl  sprang  up,  on  his  entrance,  and  the  quick 
change  of  expression  told  the  cure  that  she  was  ex- 
pecting another  visitor.  "Could  it  be  the  Prince?" 
was  the  question  which  darted  through  his  mind. 
But,  no.  There  was  neither  disappointment  nor 
relief  on  her  face,  only  surprise.  He  argued  in 
consequence  that  the  visitor  was  not  awaited  with 
emotion. 

The  servant  who  admitted  the  cure  had  not  said 
that  the  occupant  of  the  drawing-room  was  Miss 
Grant,  but  his  first  glance  assured  him  of  her  identity. 
Yes,  this  must  be  the  face,  the  eyes,  which  had 
appealed  to  all  the  romance  in  Vanno.  Even  the 
man  whom  conviction  had  dedicated  body  and  soul 
to  the  religion  of  self-sacrifice  had  enough  humanity 
mingling  with  his  saintliness  to  feel  the  peculiar 
appeal  of  this  gentle  girl.  She  was  not  only  a  woman, 
she  was  Woman.  Unconsciously  she  called,  not  to 
men,  but  to  man,  to  all  that  was  strong,  to  all  that 
was  chivalrous  and  desired  to  give  protection. 

There  was  nothing  modern  about  the  type,  the 
cure  told  himself,  though  it  might  be  that  this  par- 
ticular specimen  of  it  had  been  trained  to  modern 
ideas.  Such  a  woman  would  never  struggle  for  her 
"rights."  They  would  be  flung  at  her  feet  as 
tribute,  before  she  could  ask,  and  quite  without 
thought  she  would  accept  them.  The  cure  would 
have  laughed  had  he  been  accused  of  lurking  ten- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     361 

dencies  toward  romance,  except  perhaps  in  his  love 
of  gardens;  yet  he  seemed  to  reflect  the  impressions 
of  Vanno,  to  realize  with  almost  startling  keenness  the 
special  allurement  Miss  Grant  had  for  the  Prince; 
that  remoteness  from  the  ordinary  which  suggested 
the  vanished  loveliness  of  Greece  with  all  its  poetry; 
which  would  make  an  accompaniment  of  music 
seem  appropriate  to  every  movement,  like  the  leit 
motif  for  a  woman  in  grand  opera. 

"She  is  good  and  sweet,"  he  said  to  himself,  even 
before  he  spoke.  "I  seem  to  see  her  surrounded  by 
a  halo  of  purity. "  And  he  thought  that  a  man  who 
loved  this  girl  could  not  forget,  or  love  another 
woman.  He  did  not  lose  sight  of  Vanno's  position, 
or  belittle  it,  in  thinking  it  of  small  consequence 
compared  to  love:  but  he  said,  "This  is  a  girl  in  a 
million.  She  is  worthy  of  the  highest  place. "  And 
in  an  undertone  something  else  was  whispering  in 
him,  "I  may  have  but  a  few  minutes  to  do  what  I 
have  come  for."  His  spirit  rose  to  the  occasion. 
If  the  certain  reward  had  been  a  cardinal's  hat,  he 
could  not  have  determined  more  obstinately  on  suc- 
cess; perhaps  he  would  not  have  strained  toward  the 
goal  with  the  same  energy,  for  rightly  or  wrongly 
the  cure  had  no  temporal  ambition  for  himself.  He 
loved  his  mountain  flock,  and  had  no  wish  to  leave 
it.  His  garden  was  to  him  what  a  boxful  of 
jewels  is  to  some  women.  What  he  had  to  do  in  the 
next  few  minutes  was  to  secure  Vanno's  happiness 
and  the  girl's;  for  it  did  not  occur  to  him  as  possible 
that  she  had  no  love  for  Vanno. 


362     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I  think,"  began  Mary,  "that  you  must  be  the 
cure  of  Roquebrune,  and  that  it  was  you  who  came 
to  see  me  at  the  hotel.  It  was  very  kind  of  you, 
and  so  kind  to  come  again.  I  meant  to  have  gone 
up  to  your  church,  but  - 

"I  understand,"  he  put  in  when  she  paused, 
showing  embarrassment.  "Still,  I  want  you  to  come 
not  only  to  my  church,  but  to  my  garden.  It  will 
do  you  good.  It  is  that  which  I  have  called  to  ask 
you  to  do.  That,  and  one  other  thing." 

"  One  other  thing?  "  Mary  looked  a  little  anxious. 
Now  he  would  perhaps  say  that  he  had  heard  from 
the  convent,  that  they  knew  where  she  was,  and  had 
begged  him  to  admonish  her. 

"Yes,  one  other  thing.  You  will  think  I  am 
abrupt  in  mentioning  it,  but  you  see,  I  must  speak 
quickly,  for  at  any  moment  I  may  be  interrupted, 
and  the  thing  is  of  great  importance  —  to  me,  be- 
cause it  concerns  one  whom  I  love  —  he  who  first 
asked  me  to  come  and  see  you,  Prince  Vanno  Delia 
Robbia." 

"It  was  he  who  asked  you?"  The  words  burst 
from  her.  She  had  been  pale;  but  suddenly  the 
lilies  of  her  face  were  turned  to  roses,  as  one  flower 
may  seem  to  be  transformed  into  another,  by  the 
trick  of  an  Indian  fakir. 

"Yes.  Because  I  am  his  old  friend,  and  he 
wished  that  you  and  I  might  also  be  friends.  That 
was  before  he  had  ever  spoken  one  word  to  you, 
or  you  to  him;  but  now,  I  feel  sure,  you  have 
met?" 


THE    GUESTS    (XT    HERCULES     363 

Mary's  flaming  face  paled  and  hardened.  "What 
has  he  told  you?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"Nothing.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  many  days. 
But  because  I  have  not,  and  because  of  what  I  hear 
of  him,  I  think  you  have  met.  I  think,  too,  that 
perhaps  you  both  made  some  mistakes  about  each 
other.  I  will  not  even  beg  you  not  to  consider  me 
impertinent  or  intrusive.  It  would  insult  your 
intelligence  and  your  heart.  I  ask  you,  my  child, 
to  tell  me  whether  or  no  I  have  guessed  right?" 

"He  made  mistakes  about  me,"  she  replied,  al- 
most sullenly.  "I  don't  see  how  it's  possible  that  I 
have  made  any  about  him. " 

"It  is  not  only  possible  but  certain  if  you  believe 
him  capable  of  wronging  you  in  thought  or  act.  I 
know  him.  And  I  heard  him  speak  of  you.  Any 
woman  might  thank  heaven  for  inspiring  such  words 
from  a  man.  I  tell  you  this,  I  who  am  a  priest: 
He  loves  you,  and  did  love  you  from  the  moment  he 
first  set  eyes  upon  your  face. " 

"I  know,"  Mary  answered  simply,  and  with 
something  of  the  humbleness  of  a  child  rebuked  by 
high  authority.  "He  said  that  to  me.  But  —  no, 
I  can't  tell  you  any  more." 

"That  'but'  has  told  me  everything.  You  sent 
him  away?" 

"Yes." 

"And  I  know  him  well  enough  to  be  sure 
that  he  has  tried  to  see  you  again,  to  justify 
himself?" 

"He  has  written.     I  sent  back  the  letter.     And 


he  has  wanted  to  speak,  but  I  have  never  let  him. 
I  thought  it  would  be  wrong. " 

"Then,  my  poor  child,  did  you  think  it  less  wrong 

send  him  to  his  ruin?" 

"  to  his  ruin  — I?" 

"Because  you  believed  him  evil,  you  have  roused 
evil  in  him,  and  driven  him  to  evil.  I  wish  to  read 
you  no  moral  lecture  on  gambling;  but  for  him, 
for  a  man  of  his  nature,  it  is  a  dangerous  and 
powerful  drug  if  taken  to  kill  pain.  I  have  come 
to  ask  you  to  save  him,  since  I  believe  only  you 
can  do  it. " 

"I?"  she  echoed,  bitterly.  "But  I  am  a  gambler! 
There's  gambler's  blood  in  my  veins.  I  was  warned, 
and  wouldn't  listen.  Now  I  know  there's  no  use 
struggling,  so  I  go  on.  How  can  I  save  any  one 
from  a  thing  I  do  myself  —  a  thing  I  feel  I  shall 
keep  on  doing?" 

"Because  he  loves  you,  you  can  save  him;  and 
because  you  love  him,  too." 

She  threw  her  head  back,  with  the  gesture  of  a 
fawn  in  flight.  "Why  should  you  say  that?" 

"  I  say  what  I  know.  I  read  your  heart.  And  it 
is  right  that  you  should  love  him." 

"  No !     For  he  insulted  me. " 

"You  thought  so.  It  was  a  deceiving  thought. 
Let  him  prove  it  false.  Come  to  my  garden  to- 
morrow, and  I  will  bring  him  to  you  there.  I 
would  not  say  this  unless  I  were  sure  of  him.  And  I 
tell  you  again,  his  salvation  is  in  you.  You  have 
driven  him  to  the  drug  of  forgetfulness.  You  owe 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     365 

it  to  his  soul  to  give  him  justice.  For  the  rest,  let 
him  plead. " 

"Madame  Veentaire  and  Meestaire  Carleton," 
announced  the  shabby  man-servant,  blundering 
abruptly  in,  as  if  the  door  had  broken  away  in  front 
of  him. 

The  fire  died  out  of  the  priest's  face,  but  there 
was  no  sense  of  defeat  in  his  eyes.  His  calm  after 
excitement  was  communicated  subtly  to  Mary, 
and  enabled  her  to  greet  her  new  guests  without 
confusion. 

The  cure  bowed  with  old-fashioned  politeness, 
and  with  a  slight  fluttering  of  the  voice  Mary  made 
him  known  to  the  chaplain's  wife  and  Dick  Carleton. 

"But  we  know  each  other  already,  Monsieur  le 
Cur6  and  I,"  exclaimed  Rose,  putting  out  her  hand. 
She  explained  this  to  Mary  with  her  bright,  enthu- 
siastic smile.  "My  husband  and  I  take  long  walks 
together.  One  of  our  first  was  up  to  Roquebrune; 
and  we  went  into  the  church  —  such  a  huge,  impor- 
tant church  for  a  little  hill  town !  Monsieur  le  Cur6 
was  there,  and  we  talked,  and  he  showed  us  the 
picture  under  a  curtain.  How  I  do  love  pictures 
under  curtains,  don't  you?  They're  so  beautifully 
mysterious.  And  through  a  door  there  was  a 
glimpse  of  fairyland.  I  couldn't  believe  it  was  real 
-  I  hardly  believe  so  now,  though  Monsieur  le  Cure 
waved  his  wand  and  made  us  free  of  the  place,  as 
if  it  were  a  'truly'  garden.  Have  you  been  there 
yet,  Miss  Grant?" 

"I  was  just  inviting  her  to  come  for  the  first  time, 


366     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to-morrow,"  said  the  cure.  "Advise  her  to  accept, 
Madame,  for  three  o'clock." 

"Indeed  I  do!"     Rose  smiled  from  him  to  Mary. 

The  cure  moved  forward,  holding  out  his  hand. 
He  made  it  evident  that  this  was  goodbye.  "Will 
you  not  take  Madame's  advice,  and  my  invitation?" 
he  asked,  his  good  brown  eyes  warm  and  gentle. 

"Yes!"  Mary  answered  impulsively,  laying  her 
hand  in  his. 

He  clasped  it,  looking  kindly  into  her  face.  "I 
am  very  glad.  Thank  you.  I  will  meet  you  in  the 
church,"  he  said;  no  more;  but  Mary  knew  that  he 
meant,  "Thank  you  for  trusting  me." 

"His  Highness  is  out,"  was  the  answer  at  the 
Hotel  de  Paris  to  the  cure's  inquiries.  No,  the 
Prince  had  left  no  word  as  to  when  he  would  come 
in.  Often  he  was  away  for  dinner,  and  sometimes 
did  not  return  until  late  at  night. 

"Eh  bien!  I  will  wait,"  said  the  cure  with  a 
sigh.  He  had  determined  to  carry  the  thing  through, 
and  would  not  fail  for  lack  of  persistence. 

Vanno  might  be  in  any  one  of  a  dozen  places,  but 
the  cure  with  his  mind's  eye  saw  the  young  man  at 
the  Casino.  There  he  could  not  seek  him  even  if 
he  would,  as  a  man  in  clerical  dress  would  not  be 
admitted.  Resignedly  the  priest  sat  down  in  a 
retired  corner  of  the  hall,  where  he  could  watch  those 
who  came  in  by  the  revolving  door.  That  he  should 
be  sitting  in  this  home  of  gayety  and  fashion  at 
Monte  Carlo  appealed  to  his  sense  of  humour.  "A 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     367 

bull  in  a  china  shop,"  he  thought,  "is  in  his  element 
compared  to  poor  Father  Pietro  Coromaldi  in  the 
hall  of  the  Hotel  de  Paris." 

At  first  he  was  half  shyly  diverted  by  the  gay 
pageant  around  him,  the  coming  and  going  of  per- 
fectly dressed  men  and  women  of  many  nations, 
who  drank  tea  and  ate  little  cakes,  while  the  band 
played  the  sort  of  music  which  can  have  no  mission 
save  as  an  incentive  to  conversation. 

But  time  went  on,  and  Vanno  did  not  come. 
The  cure  tired  of  the  people,  most  of  whom  he  felt 
inclined  to  pity,  as  no  real  joy  shone  out  of  their 
eyes,  even  when  they  laughed.  He  thought  the 
pretty,  smiling  young  women  were  like  attractive 
advertisements  for  tooth-pastes,  and  face-powders, 
and  furs,  and  hats.  They  did  not  look  to  him  like 
real  people,  living  real,  everyday  lives;  and  Miss 
Grant,  though  perhaps  she  led  just  such  an  existence, 
seemed  to  belong  to  a  different  order  of  being. 

At  last  Lady  Dauntrey,  in  her  smart  purple  dress, 
came  in  with  a  tall,  haggard  man  who  had  the  eyes 
of  a  chained  and  starving  dog.  They  joined  a  con- 
spicuous party  whose  principal  members  were  a  fat 
woman  massaged  to  the  teeth,  a  dark  girl  who  had 
evidently  a  sharp  eye  to  the  main  chance  as  well 
as  to  the  picturesque,  and  a  hook-nosed,  appallingly 
pompous  man  who  would  strut  on  the  edge  of  the 
grave. 

"Those  are  the  Holbeins, "  said  a  woman,  who  at 
that  moment  came  with  another  to  a  seat  near  the 
cure's  inconspicuous  corner.  "They  represent  the 


368     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

ideal  vulgarity.  Rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  reason- 
able avarice!  When  the  mother  and  father  die,  the 
girl's  last  tribute  to  their  memory  will  be  to  order 
them  bijou  tombstones.  And  they  are  the  sort  of 
people  those  wretched  Dauntreys  are  driven  to 
know!" 

The  cure,  catching  a  name  made  familiar  to  him 
earlier  in  the  day,  turned  his  head  to  glance  at  his 
neighbours,  who  were  seating  themselves  at  a  small 
round  table.  At  the  same  time  one  of  the  two 
women,  the  one  who  had  not  spoken,  looked  at  him. 
Instant  recognition  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  both. 
The  lady  bowed  with  distant  politeness,  and  he  re- 
turned the  courtesy.  She  it  was  who  had  come  to 
him  at  Roquebrune,  one  day  weeks  ago,  asking  for 
news  of  Prince  Delia  Robbia,  of  whose  acquaintance 
with  him  she  was  evidently  informed. 

She  was  dressed  more  elaborately  this  afternoon. 
The  cure  had  described  her  to  Vanno  as  wearing 
a  gray  travelling  dress.  To-day  she  was  in  black, 
with  a  large  velvet  hat  which  set  off  her  pale  face, 
her  pale  eyes  and  hair,  making  her  look  striking  and 
almost  handsome;  younger,  too,  than  the  cure 
had  thought,  though  she  had  no  air  of  girlishness. 
"Idina  Bland"  was  the  name  Vanno  had  ejaculated, 
on  hearing  her  description;  and  he  had  gone  on  to  say 
that  she  was  a  distant  relative,  who  had  lived  for 
some  time  in  Rome  and  at  Monte  Delia  Robbia. 

Certainly  Vanno's  surprise  at  hearing  of  her 
presence  on  the  Riviera,  and  her  questions  concern- 
ing the  family,  had  not  been  of  an  agreeable  nature. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     369 

He  had  thought  that  she  was  in  America,  and 
evidently  would  not  have  been  sorry  if  she  had 
stayed  there;  yet  any  uneasiness  he  felt  had  not, 
apparently,  been  on  his  own  behalf.  Angelo's  name 
had  been  mentioned,  and  then  Vanno  had  rather 
abruptly  turned  to  another  subject. 

The  cure  blamed  himself  for  curiosity,  yet  he  could 
not  help  feeling  curious  concerning  the  young  woman 
with  eyes  which  he  had  described  as  like  those  of  a 
statue. 

He  wondered  if  she  knew  that  the  Prince  was  at 
the  Hotel  de  Paris,  and  if  she  had  come  there  to  see 
him;  or  if,  perhaps,  they  had  already  met  since  he 
first  mentioned  her  to  Vanno.  He  wished  that  his 
small  knowledge  of  English  were  larger,  but  though 
he  spoke  the  language  not  at  all,  and  understood  only 
a  little,  he  gathered  here  and  there  a  word  of  the 
conversation.  Idina  Eland's  companion  was  evi- 
dently telling  her  about  the  "celebrities";  therefore 
he  deduced  that  she  was  better  acquainted  with  the 
Riviera  than  was  the  younger  woman.  Now  and 
then  the  cure  caught  the  word  "  Annonciata, "  and  he 
wondered  if  the  pair  were  staying  at  the  place  of 
that  name.  He  knew  it  well,  the  beautiful  little 
pointed  mountain  above  Mentone,  with  its  deserted 
convent,  its  sad  watching  cypresses,  its  one  hotel 
in  a  fragrant  garden,  and  its  famous  view  of  the 
Corsica-n  mirage.  If  Vanno's  cousin  lived  in  that 
hotel,  which  could  be  reached  only  by  a  funicular  or 
a  picturesque  mule  path,  it  looked  as  if  she  had  a 
wish  for  retirement. 


370     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

The  priest  would  have  liked  to  know  if  she  had 
been  at  the  Annonciata  ever  since  her  visit  to  him. 
Prince  Delia  Robbia  had  not  mentioned  her,  on  New 
Year's  Day,  but  that  was  no  sure  argument  of  his 
ignorance.  Miss  Eland's  presence  might  not  seem  of 
importance  to  him.  The  cure  asked  himself  if  it 
would  be  indiscreet  to  bring  up  the  subject  when  he 
next  saw  Angelo.  Any  day,  now,  he  might  have  a 
summons  to  lunch  with  the  bride  and  bridegroom, 
and  to  bless  their  villa,  which  he  had  been  requested 
to  do  as  soon  as  they  were  settled. 

Almost  involuntarily  he  kept  alert,  listening  for 
the  name  of  Delia  Robbia,  but  it  was  not  uttered. 
The  elder  woman  evidently  enjoyed  her  position  as 
cicerone,  and  at  last  her  catalogue  of  celebrities  so 
wearied  the  cure  that  he  grew  nervous.  He  turned 
to  watch  Lady  Dauntrey,  at  a  distance,  trying  to 
read  her  face  and  that  of  the  melancholy  man  he 
took  to  be  her  husband.  He  did  not  like  to  think 
of  Miss  Grant  —  his  Principino's  Miss  Grant  —  be- 
ing at  that  woman's  house. 

"We  shall  see  what  can  be  done,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, trying  to  enliven  the  long  minutes  of  his  waiting, 
minutes  which  seemed  to  grow  longer  and  ever 
longer,  like  shadows  at  evening. 

By  six  o'clock  the  great  hall  and  tea-room  adjoin- 
ing were  nearly  empty.  The  Dauntreys  and  the 
Holbeins  had  gone,  and  nearly  all  the  pretty,  chat- 
tering young  women  who  were  like  advertisements 
in  picture-papers.  Still  Miss  Bland  and  her  friend 
lingered  over  their  tea  and  cakes,  though  they  had 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     371 

ceased  to  eat  or  drink;  and  the  cure  could  not  help 
thinking  that  they  had  a  special  object  in  staying  on. 
Eventually,  however,  they  paid  the  hovering  waiter, 
and  slowly  walked  out,  Idina  Bland  once  again  bend- 
ing her  head  coldly  to  the  priest. 

Night's  darkness  shut  round  the  brilliant  Place  of 
the  Casino,  like  a  blue  wall  surrounding  a  golden 
cube  of  light,  and  the  cure  would  have  a  dark 
walk  up  the  mule  path.  In  order  to  come  down 
that  afternoon,  he  had  given  the  service  of  vespers 
to  a  friend  from  Nice,  who  had  just  arrived  for  a 
short  visit  and  a  "rest  cure";  still,  he  had  expected 
to  be  back  by  this  time.  He  began  to  feel  oddly 
homesick  and  even  unhappy  in  this  hall  which  to  his 
taste  appeared  garish.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  a  prisoner,  and  that  he  would  be  detained  here 
forever.  A  childish  yearning  for  his  little  parlour 
filled  his  heart.  The  waiters  stared  at  him.  But 
he  sat  very  upright  and  unyielding  on  the  chair 
which  was  made  for  lazy  comfort. 

"I  will  stay,"  he  said  to  himself,  "if  it  must  be, 
till  after  midnight.  Those  two  shall  be  made  to 
save  one  another.  It  is  the  only  way.  And  there  is 
no  time  to  waste. " 

At  seven  o'clock  Vanno  came  in  hastily,  glanc- 
ing at  his  watch.  He  walked  so  fast  across  the 
marble  floor,  with  its  islands  of  rugs,  that  he  was  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairway  before  the  shorter-legged 
cure  could  intercept  him;  but  at  the  sound  of  the 
familiar  voice  calling  "Principino!"  he  turned, 
astonished. 


372     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

The  cure  thought  that  he  looked  weary,  and  older 
than  on  that  first  blue-and-gold  morning  on  the 
mountain;  but  the  weariness  was  chased  away  by  a 
smile  of  welcome. 

"Why,  Father,  you  here!  This  is  an  honour," 
Vanno  said;  but  in  his  eyes  there  was  the  same 
shadow  the  cure  had  seen  in  Mary  Grant's,  the  ex- 
pectation of  blame.  Poor  Vanno!  He  was  resign- 
ing himself,  his  old  friend  saw,  to  a  lecture.  Per- 
haps he  thought  that  Angelo,  hearing  of  and  disap- 
proving certain  stories,  had  begged  the  priest  to 
come  and  scold  him. 

"You  look  tired,"  Vanno  added,  as  they  shook 
hands. 

"So  do  you,  my  son,"  said  the  cure. 

"I  am,  rather.  But "  He  stopped,  yet  the 

older  man  guessed  the  end  of  the  sentence. 

"You  are  dining  out,  and  must  get  ready  in  a 
hurry. " 

"I'm  due  at  Angelo's  at  eight.  I've  plenty  of  time 
though.  I  shall  take  a  taxi.  I  hope  you  haven't 
been  waiting  long?" 

"More  than  two  hours.  I  would  not  go  —  even 
to  oblige  the  waiters. " 

"Two  hours !     Then " 

"Yes.  It  was  that,  my  Principino.  I  had  to 
see  you.  I  have  come  —  to  make  you  a  reproach. 
You  know  why?" 

Vanno's  face  hardened  slightly.  "I  can  imagine. 
Who  told  you?  Angelo?" 

"Who  told  me  what?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     373 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders,  then  nodded 
slightly  in  the  direction  of  the  Casino,  which, 
through  the  big  windows  of  the  hall,  could  be  seen 
sparkling  with  light.  "That  I've  taken  to  amusing 
myself  —  over  there.  But  it's  no  use  scolding, 
Father.  It's  very  good  of  you  to  feel  an  interest 
in  your  old  pupil,  though  whoever  has  been  telling 
tales  oughtn't  to  have  put  you  to  this  trouble. 
I  must  'dree  my  ain  weird,'  as  the  Scots  have  it. 
I  can  translate  it  only  by  saying  that  I  must  go  to 
the  devil  in  my  own  way." 

'I  have  not  come  to  scold  you  for  gambling,  if 
that  is  what  you  mean, "  the  cure  said  mildly.  '*  An- 
gelo  has  told  me  nothing.  Nobody  sent  me  to  you. 
I  have  to  reproach  you  for  something  quite  different. 
I  have  seen  Miss  Grant,  Principino.  How  you 
could  suspect  for  a  moment  that  there  was  anything 
but  a  pure  soul  behind  those  eyes,  I  cannot  under- 
stand." 

Vanno  grew  pale.  He  was  obliged  to  be  silent 
for  an  instant,  in  defence  of  his  self-control.  "I 
know  very  little  of  women's  eyes,  and  of  their  souls 
nothing  at  all,"  he  answered,  harshly. 

"So  much  the  better,  perhaps,  because  you  can 
learn  only  good  of  the  sex  from  Miss  Grant's,"  said 
the  cure. 

"She  will  let  me  learn  no  lesson  from  her  —  unless, 
that  there  is  no  forgiveness  for  one  mistake." 

"That  is  because  she  cared  so  much  that  you 
hurt  her  cruelly.  She  did  not  tell  me  so,  though 
we  have  spoken  of  you,  but  I  saw  how  it  was.  There 


374     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

is  no  question  of  a  mistake  this  time.  And  when 
you  have  talked  together  in  my  garden  to-morrow 
afternoon,  she  will  forgive  and  understand  every- 
thing." 

"Is  she  going  to  your  place?" 

"At  three  o'clock  she  will  be  there.  You  had 
better  come  a  little  earlier. " 

"I  shall  not  come  at  all,"  Vanno  blazed  out, 
with  violence.  "She  believes  already  that  I've 
persecuted  her.  I  won't  give  her  reason  to  think 
it." 

"Poor  child,  she  is  very  unhappy, "  the  cure  sighed, 
meekly. 

"At  least,  it  isn't  I  who  have  made  her  so." 

"Perhaps  it  is  herself,  and  that  is  sadder  —  to 
have  only  herself  to  blame.  You  say  you  must  be 
allowed  to  go  to  the  devil  in  your  own  way.  Well, 
you  are  a  man.  You  do  not  want  another  man,  even 
if  he  be  a  priest,  to  try  and  save  you.  But  she  needs 
a  man  to  save  her,  a  strong  man  who  loves  her  well. 
She  is  drifting,  without  a  rudder.  She  told  me  to- 
day —  with  such  a  look  in  her  eyes !  —  that  she  has 
'gambler's  blood'  in  her  veins.  Only  one  thing  can 
save  her  now,  for  she  has  got  the  idea  in  her  head 
that  she  is  the  victim  of  Fate.  The  one  thing  is: 
an  interest  ten  million  times  greater  than  gambling 
—  Love." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Vanno's  face. 

"I'm  not  fit "  he  stammered. 

"The  soul  that's  in  you  is  fit  to  do  God's  work, 
for  love  is  part  of  God.  'Thy  soul  must  overflow, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     375 

if  thou  another's  soul  would  reach.'  Now,  my  son, 
I  won't  keep  you  any  longer.  At  two-thirty  to- 
morrow in  my  garden." 

He  did  not  remember  until  he  was  halfway  up 
the  mule  path  that  he  had  meant  to  speak  of  Idina 
Bland. 


XXIII 

THERE  came  a  moment  when  it  seemed  to 
Mary  that  she  had  promised  to  do  an  undignified 
thing,  a  thing  which  would  make  Vanno  respect  her 
less  than  ever.  To  go  out  deliberately  to  meet  him, 
after  all  that  had  passed !  —  it  was  impossible. 
She  must  send  a  message  to  the  cure  saying  that 
she  could  not  come  to  his  garden. 

She  even  began  such  a  letter,  late  on  the  night 
after  his  call;  but  as  she  wrote,  the  good  brown 
eyes  of  the  priest  seemed  to  look  at  her,  saying,  "I 
thank  you  for  trusting  me."  Then  she  tore  up  the 
sheet  of  paper,  and  went  on  trusting  him  blindly. 
She  slept  better  afterward  than  she  had  slept  since 
Christmas,  her  first  night  in  the  Villa  Bella  Vista. 

Mary's  habit  was  to  go  to  the  Casino  every  morn- 
ing as  soon  as  the  doors  opened,  and  she  paid  the 
artist  whom  she  had  met  in  the  Paris  train  to  seize 
a  place  for  her,  in  the  rush  of  early  players.  For 
doing  this  he  received  ten  francs,  which  gave  him 
two  stakes  at  roulette,  and  sometimes  enabled  him 
to  play  for  several  hours  before  he  was  "cleaned 
out. "  She  had  lost  a  good  deal  by  this  time;  all  her 
original  winnings,  and  had  begun  to  fall  back  on  her 
own  capital,  for  her  luck  had  never  returned  for 
more  than  a  few  hours  together.  A  hateful  sense  of 

376 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  377 

failure  was  upon  her.  She  was  feverishly  anxious 
to  get  back  her  losses,  not  so  much  for  the  money's 
sake  as  for  the  pleasure  of  "beating  the  bank," 
as  she  had  continually  beaten  it  at  first.  Once,  she 
had  had  the  great  white,  good-natured  animal  under 
her  feet,  and  people  had  looked  at  her  with  wonder- 
ing admiration,  as  if  she  had  been  Una  leading  an 
obedient  lion.  Now  the  admiring  looks,  tributes  to 
her  lovely  face  and  pretty  clothes  or  jewels,  were 
tempered  with  pity.  The  lion  had  Una  in  his 
mouth.  There  seemed  to  be  no  question  in  the 
public  mind  as  to  how  he  would  eventually  dispose 
of  her.  Mary  felt  the  difference  keenly.  She  could 
hardly  submit  to  it.  She  wanted  desperately  to  do 
something  which,  in  every  sense,  would  turn  the 
tables.  She  risked  huge  sums  in  a  wild  hope  that 
her  courage  might  conquer  luck,  that  again  she 
might  know  the  peculiar  joy,  the  indescribable  thrill 
of  seeing  the  "bank"  send  for  more  money.  Yet 
deep  down  within  her  a  voice  said  that  the  moment 
would  never  come  again;  and  she  had  no  longer  her 
old  gay  confidence  in  placing  her  stakes. 

The  crowds  had  ceased  to  collect  round  her  table, 
to  watch  the  "wonderful  Miss  Grant."  It  is  the 
sensational  wins,  where  piles  of  gold  and  notes  mount 
up,  that  people  rush  to  gaze  upon.  They  are  not 
amused  by  seeing  money  monotonously  swept  off 
the  tables,  even  in  immense  sums.  It  discourages 
and  depresses  them.  Nobody  likes  to  be  discouraged 
and  depressed;  therefore  Mary  had  lost  her  audi- 
ences. Still  she  played  on,  and  listened  to  no  advice. 


378     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

This  morning,  however,  when  she  woke  to  remem- 
ber her  promise  to  the  cure,  she  felt  oddly  disinclined 
to  go  to  the  Casino.  Usually  she  wakened,  after 
dozing  fitfully,  dreaming  over  again  last  night's 
worries,  with  an  almost  tremulous  longing  to  be  at 
the  tables  once  more,  a  longing  that  seemed  even 
more  physical  than  mental,  an  aching  of  the  nerves. 
Now  the  burning  desire  was  suddenly  assuaged,  or 
forgotten  in  the  powerful  sway  of  a  new  thought, 
as  illness  can  be  forgotten  in  sudden  fear  or  joy. 
The  Casino  appeared  unimportant,  trivial.  All 
there  was  of  her  was  already  on  the  mountain,  in 
the  little  garden  which  Rose  Winter  had  said  was 
like  fairyland. 

Mary  did  not  wish  to  be  questioned  by  anybody 
in  the  house,  however;  so  she  went  out  at  the  usual 
hour,  found  her  employe  in  the  long  queue  of  those, 
who  waited  before  the  Casino  doors,  paid  him,  and 
said  that  he  might  keep  the  seat  for  himself.  She 
then  went  to  walk  on  the  terrace,  hoping  that  no 
one  she  knew  might  be  there:  and  it  seemed  likely 
that  she  would  have  her  wish,  for  most  of  her  ac- 
quaintances were  keen  gamblers  who  considered  a 
morning  wasted  outside  the  Casino. 

Mary  walked  to  the  eastern  end  of  the  terrace, 
where  the  ascenseur  comes  up  from  the  level  of  the 
railway  station  below.  She  remembered  how  she 
had  heard  the  little  boy  give  his  musical  cry,  and 
how  she  had  looked  out  of  the  train  window,  and  his 
smile  had  decided  her  not  to  go  on.  If  she  had  gone 
on,  how  different  everything  would  have  been,  how 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     379 

much  better  perhaps;  and  yet  —  she  could  not  be 
sorry  to-day,  as  she  was  sometimes  in  bitter  moments, 
that  she  had  come  to  Monte  Carlo. 

As  she  stood  by  the  balustrade,  looking  away 
toward  Italy,  a  voice  she  knew  spoke  behind  her. 
She  turned,  and  saw  Hannaford,  his  hat  off,  his 
marred  face  pale  in  the  sunshine. 

"Oh,"  she  said  impulsively,  "I  think  you're  the 
one  person  I  could  endure  talking  to  just  now!" 

Since  the  night  of  the  ball  on  the  yacht,  when 
they  had  sat  on  the  terrace  in  the  moonlight,  they 
had  become  good  friends,  she  and  Hannaford.  She 
had  no  feeling  of  repulsion  for  him  now.  That  was 
lost  in  pity,  and  forgotten  in  gratitude  for  the 
sympathy  which  made  it  possible  to  confide  in  him 
as  she  could  in  no  one  else.  He  stood  entirely  apart 
from  other  men,  in  her  eyes,  as  he  seemed  to  stand 
apart  from  life,  and  out  of  the  sun.  When  she 
spoke  to  him  of  her  troubles  or  hopes  it  was  not,  to 
her,  as  if  she  spoke  to  a  man  like  other  men,  but  to 
a  sad  spirit,  who  knew  all  the  sadness  her  spirit 
could  ever  know. 

Often  they  had  walked  here  together  on  the  ter- 
race, but  it  was  usually  in  the  afternoon,  when 
Hannaford  could  persuade  her  out  of  the  Casino 
for  a  few  minutes,  to  "revive  herself  with  a  breath 
of  fresh  air, "  or  to  see  the  gold-and-crimson  sunset 
glory  behind  the  Rock  of  Hercules.  Since  Hanna- 
ford had  won  the  money  he  wanted  for  the  buying 
of  his  villa,  he  had  kept  his  resolution  not  to  play 
seriously;  but  he  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  the 


380     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Casino,  unobtrusively  watching  over  Mary.  He 
did  not  feel  the  slightest  desire  to  play,  he  told 
Carleton,  and  other  men  who  were  amused  or  made 
curious  by  the  sudden  change  in  him.  He  had  a 
"new  interest  in  life,"  he  explained;  and  every  one 
took  it  for  granted  that  he  meant  the  villa,  now  his 
own.  But  he  never  said  it  was  that  which  had  made 
life  better  worth  living  for  him. 

"If  it's  a  question  of  bare  endurance  of  me,  I'll 
go,"  he  answered  Mary's  greeting,  "and  leave  you 
to  walk  by  yourself." 

"No,"  she  assured  him.  "I'd  really  like  to  have 
you.  I  thought  I  wanted  to  be  alone.  But  I  see 
now  that  being  with  you  is  better. " 

Hannaford  drew  in  a  long  breath  of  the  exquisite 
air,  and  looked  up  into  the  sunshine  as  if  for  once 
he  did  not  feel  himself  unfitted  for  the  light.  "Do 
you  really  mean  that,  I  wonder?"  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Yes.  I  wouldn't  say  it  if  I  didn't,"  Mary  an- 
swered with  complete  frankness.  "How  do  you 
happen  to  be  here  at  this  time  of  day?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  saw  you  go  down  the  steps, 
and  followed  to  ask  the  same  question. " 

"I  came,  because  for  some  reason  I  have  to  be 
out  of  doors.  I  couldn't  go  into  the  Rooms!  I'd 
take  a  long  walk,  if  I  knew  where  to  go. " 

"Good.  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Will  you  let  me 
guide  you  somewhere,  and  give  you  a  surprise?" 

Mary  looked  undecided.  "I'd  like  that.  But  I 
have  an  engagement  this  afternoon.  Not  in  the 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     381 

Casino  —  or  anywhere  at  Monte  Carlo.  It's  up  at 
Roquebrune.  I  have  promised  to  go  and  see  the 
-  the  cure's  garden  there. " 

"I'll  bring  you  back  from  my  expedition  in  plenty 
of  time,  if  that's  all,"  said  Hannaford.  He  did 
not  urge,  but  Mary  knew  that  he  very  much  wanted 
her  to  say  yes. 

"Will  it  be  out  of  doors?" 

"All  the  time  out  of  doors,  except  for  a  few  minutes 
when  you're  looking  at  a  curiosity.  First  we  have 
to  get  to  Mentone.  I'll  spin  you  over  there  in  a 
taxi.  Then  we  can  walk  to  —  to  the  surprise.  I'm 
sure  you've  never  been. " 

"Is  it  to  see  your  villa?"  Mary  asked,  for  he  had 
suggested  her  going  there  some  day. 

"No,  for  I  wouldn't  take  you  to  my  house  alone. 
We're  not  very  conventional,  you  and  I,  I'm  afraid; 
but  there  must  be  a  party  for  your  first  visit  to  my 
'castle  in  Spain'  transplanted  into  Italy.  I'll  give 
you,  and  any  people  you  like  to  ask,  a  picnic  luncheon 
over  there.  But  to-day  I  want  you  to  lunch  with 
me  alone  somewhere. " 

There  was  rather  an  odd  ring  in  his  voice, 
which  made  Mary  look  up  quickly,  but  his  face  was 
calm,  even  stolid,  as  usual;  and  she  thought  that 
she  had  been  mistaken.  She  put  herself  quietly 
into  his  care,  feeling  the  comfort  of  perfect  ease  in  his 
companionship.  She  could  talk  to  him  if  she  chose, 
or  be  silent.  Whatever  she  liked,  he  too  would  like. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  taxi  which  Hannaford  had 
hired  stopped  at  the  bridge  dedicated  to  the  Em- 


382     THE    GUESTS    OF    HER'CULES 

press  of  Austria,  the  bridge  which  marks  the  divid- 
ing line  between  the  communes  of  Roquebrune  and 
Mentone.  Then  the  two  walked  along  the  sea  front, 
where  the  spray  spouted  gold  in  the  sun,  and  a  salt 
tang  was  on  the  breeze.  It  was  a  different  world, 
somehow,  from  the  world  of  Monte  Carlo,  though  it 
was  made  up  of  pleasure-seekers  from  many  coun- 
tries. There  were  smartly  dressed  women,  pretty 
girls  with  tennis  rackets,  men  in  flannels,  with  Pana- 
ma hats  pulled  over  their  tanned  faces;  men  with 
fine,  clear  profiles,  who  had  been  soldiers;  solemn 
judges  on  holiday;  fat  old  couples  who  waddled 
from  side  to  side,  as  if  their  legs  were  set  on  at  the 
corners,  like  the  legs  of  chairs  and  tables;  thin, 
middle-aged  ladies  with  long,  flat  feet  which  showed 
under  short  tweed  skirts;  ladies  clothed  as  unal- 
luringly  as  possible  as  if  to  apologize  for  belonging  to 
the  female  sex;  elderly  gentlemen  with  superior, 
selfish  expressions,  and  faces  like  ten  thousand  other 
elderly  gentlemen  who  live  in  'pensions,  talk  of  their 
"well-connected"  friends,  and  collect  all  the  news- 
papers to  brood  over  in  corners,  as  dogs  collect  bones. 
There  were  invalids,  too,  in  bath-chairs,  and  children 
playing  with  huge  St.  Bernards  or  Great  Danes, 
and  charming  actresses  from  the  Mentone  Casino, 
with  incredibly  slim  figures,  immense  ermine  muffs, 
and  miniature  Japanese  spaniels.  Mary  could  see 
no  reason  why  these  people  who  promenaded  and 
listened  to  the  music  should  be  different  both  in- 
dividually and  in  mass  from  a  crowd  to  be  seen  at 
Monte  Carlo,  yet  the  fact  remained  that  they  were 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     383 

different;  and  among  the  faces  there  were  none  she 
knew,  save  those  of  the  bird-like  girl  and  her  mother, 
half  forgotten  since  the  meeting  in  the  train. 

Hannaford  took  her  by  the  Port,  and  past  the  old 
town  whose  heights  towered  picturesquely  up  and 
up,  roof  after  roof,  above  the  queer  shops  and  pink 
and  yellow  houses  of  the  sea  level.  Then  came  the 
East  Bay,  with  its  new  villas  and  hotels,  and  back- 
ground of  hills  silvered  with  olives;  and  at  last,  by 
a  turn  to  the  right  which  avoided  the  high  road  to 
Italy,  they  dipped  into  a  rough  path  past  a  pebble 
floored  stream,  where  pretty  kneeling  girls  sang  and 
scrubbed  clothing  on  the  stones. 

Two  douaniers,  one  French,  the  other  Italian, 
lounging  on  opposite  sides  of  the  little  stream  flow- 
ing down  from  the  Gorge  of  St.  Louis,  told  that  this 
was  the  frontier.  It  was  not  the  road  to  Italy  that 
Mary  knew,  when  once  or  twice  she  had  motored 
over  the  high  bridge  flung  across  the  dark  Gorge  of 
St.  Louis  on  excursions  to  Bordighera  and  San  Remo. 
Nevertheless  they  were  in  Italy,  and  a  mysterious 
change  had  come  over  the  landscape,  the  indefinable 
change  that  belongs  to  frontiers.  The  buildings 
were  shabbier;  yet,  as  if  in  generous  pity  for  their 
poorness,  roses  and  pink  geraniums  draped  them  in 
cataracts  of  bloom.  Gardens  were  less  well  kept, 
yet  somehow  more  poetic.  The  colour  of  the  old 
plastered  walls  and  pergolas  was  more  beautiful 
here,  because  more  faded,  stained  green  with  moss, 
and  splashed  with  many  flower-like  tints  born  of 
age  and  weather 


384     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Always  ahead,  as  Mary  walked  on  with  Hanna- 
ford,  the  high  red  wall  of  the  Rochers  Rouges  glowed 
as  if  stained  with  blood  where  the  sun  struck  it; 
and  between  the  towering  heights  of  rock  and  the 
turquoise  sea  he  stopped  her  at  an  open-air  res- 
taurant roofed  with  palm  leaves.  There  Hanna- 
ford  ordered  luncheon,  at  a  table  almost  overhang- 
ing the  water,  and  while  the  bouillabaisse  was  being 
made,  he  took  her  to  the  cave  of  the  prehistoric 
skeletons. 

Mary  was  interested,  yet  depressed.  Life  seemed 
such  a  little  thing  when  she  thought  of  all  the  lives 
that  had  passed  in  one  unending  procession  of  brief 
joys  and  tedious  tragedies  since  those  bones  had 
been  clothed  with  flesh  and  had  caged  hearts  which 
beat  as  hotly  as  hers  was  beating  now.  "What 
does  it  matter, "she  said,  "whether  we  are  happy 
or  not?" 

"Does  it  not  matter  to  ourselves?"  Hannaford  an- 
swered, rather  than  asked. 

"Just  at  this  moment,  I'm  not  sure." 

"Does  it  matter  more  about  making  others 
happy?" 

"Perhaps.  I  should  like  to  think  that  in  my  life 
I  had  made  some  others  happy. " 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  by  and  by,"  he  said,  "how 
you  can  make  one  other  very  happy.  It's  just  a 
suggestion  I  have  to  offer.  There  may  be  nothing 
in  it." 

He  spoke  rather  dryly  and  perfunctorily,  as  he 
helped  her  down  the  stairs  of  the  cave-dwellers'  rock- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     385 

house.  Mary  had  a  vague  idea  that  he  meant  to 
interest  her  in  a  "sad  case,"  as  he  had  done  once  or 
twice  before,  when  he  thought  she  needed  to  be 
"taken  out  of  herself."  She  expected  to  hear  a 
tale  of  some  poor  girl  who  had  "lost  all,"  and  must 
be  redeemed  from  disaster  by  a  helping  hand  lest 
worse  things  happen;  and  as  he  was  evidently  de- 
termined not  to  tell  his  story  then,  Mary  waited 
without  impatience. 

They  were  lunching  early,  and  had  finished  before 
many  people  began  to  arrive  dustily  in  carriages  and 
automobiles.  Hannaford  had  ordered  his  taxi  at 
two  o'clock,  and  there  was  no  hurry.  He  told  the 
Italian  musicians  to  play  softly,  some  simple  old 
airs  that  he  loved.  Then,  when  Mary  sat  staring 
dreamily  into  the  water,  far  down  through  clear 
green  depths,  he  put  his  elbows  on  the  table,  his  chin 
in  his  hands,  and  leaned  across  to  her. 

"Of  course  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  I  love  you. 
Don't  speak  yet  —  and  don't  look  at  me,  please. 
Keep  your  eyes  on  the  water.  I  told  you  I  had 
something  to  ask;  but  it's  not  for  your  love  I'm  ask- 
ing. I  know  that  no  woman,  not  even  with  your 
kind  and  gentle  heart,  could  love  a  man  like  me. 
But  something  has  hurt  you.  I  told  you  once  be- 
fore that  I  didn't  want  to  hear  what  it  was.  Only 
I'm  afraid  you're  not  happy,  and  perhaps  —  if  the 
hurt  was  in  your  heart  —  you  may  never  be  happy 
again  in  exactly  the  old  way,  as  a  young  girl  is  when 
she  is  full  of  hope.  We  feel  alike  about  a  lot  of 
things,  you  and  I.  We  are  good  friends.  At  least, 


386     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

you  look  on  me  as  your  friend.  And  as  for  you, 
no  man  will  ever  be  your  friend,  as  you  think  of  that 
word.  I'm  your  friend  to  this  extent,  that  you've 
given  me  back  my  interest  in  the  world.  I  used  to 
want  to  get  out  of  it  all,  but  I  don't  now,  because 
you're  in  it.  Anyhow,  I  don't  want  to  go  if  you'll 
let  me  be  of  use  to  you  —  if  you'll  let  me  love  you. 
Is  it  possible,  dear,  that  you  could  think  of  marry- 
ing me  —  just  in  a  friendly  sort  of  way,  you  know, 
to  have  a  protector,  a  man  to  look  after  you,  and 
worship  you,  without  any  return  except  a  little  sym- 
pathy and  kindness?" 

Not  once  had  Mary  looked  up  at  him,  after  the 
first  fluttering  glance  of  surprise  when  he  began. 
Even  when  Hannaford  stopped,  and  waited,  she 
still  kept  her  eyes  on  the  water;  but  he  saw  that  her 
hand  trembled  on  the  balustrade,  and  that  a  little 
pulse  beat  in  her  throat. 

"I  never  thought!"  she  quavered,  miserably. 

"I  know  that,  very  well.  I  wouldn't  believe 
most  women  who  made  such  an  excuse,  after  being 
as  kind  to  me  as  you  have  been  —  a  man  like  me! 
I  should  have  thought  you  knew,  and  that  you 
were  playing,  as  the  boys  play  with  the  frogs. 
But  I  realized  from  the  first  that  you  weren't  going 
to  'think,'  unless  I  put  thoughts  into  your  head. 
I  wouldn't  ask  such  a  thing  of  you  if  you  were 
happy,  but  you're  not  happy.  I  don't  believe  you 
know  what  to  do  with  your  future.  You're  not 
interested  in  things,  as  you  were  when  you  first 
came  —  except  in  the  Casino,  and  that  can't  go  on 


THE    GUESTS    OJF    HERCULES     387 

forever.  The  sort  of  thing  you're  doing  now  eats 
a  woman's  soul  away.  Men  can  stand  it  longer  than 
women.  Almost  anything  else  would  be  better  for 
you.  Even  marrying  me.  Maybe  you  would  take  an 
interest  in  the  place  I've  bought.  It  could  be  made 
so  beautiful!  You  can't  imagine  the  joy  I've  had 
in  simply  picturing  you  there." 

"I  should  love  to  come  —  to  see  it  —  but  only  as 
your  friend,"  Mary  said,  stammering  guiltily,  as 
if  she  were  doing  wrong  in  refusing  him.  "Oh,  I 
can't  tell  you  how  sorry,  how  sorry  I  am!" 

"You  needn't  be  sorry,"  he  answered.  "I  might 
have  known  what  I  wanted  was  too  good  to  come 
true.  I  might  have  known  I  was  beyond  the  pale. 
And  I  did  know,  in  my  heart.  Only  I  had  to  find 
out,  for  sure.  You  mustn't  mind.  I  wouldn't  be 
without  the  memory  of  this  day  with  you,  anyhow 
—  not  for  the  world.  It's  good  enough  to  live  on 
for  the  rest  of  my  life. " 

"But  —  you  speak  as  if  we  weren't  to  see  each 
other  any  more,"  said  Mary.  "Can't  we  go  on  be- 
ing friends?" 

"Yes.  Wherever  we  are,  we'll  'go  on  being 
friends.*  But  you  may  leave  Monte.  You  prob- 
ably will.  And  I  —  I  shall  be  leaving  too.  Still, 
we'll  'go  on  being  friends.'  And  the  next  favour 
I  ask  of  you,  if  you  possibly  can,  will  you  grant 
it?" 

"Indeed  I  will,"  Mary  promised  eagerly.  "Ask 
me  now." 

"Not    yet.     Not    quite    yet.     The    time   hasn't 


388     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

come.  But  it  will  before  long.  Then  you  must  re- 
member. " 

"I'll  remember  always."  She  stood  up  and 
held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it  in  his,  and  shook  it 
heartily.  His  manner  was  so  quiet,  so  common- 
place, his  face  and  voice  so  calm,  that  she  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  really  cared,  that  he  really 
"minded  much,"  as  she  put  it  to  herself.  Can  a 
man  shake  hands  like  that  with  a  woman,  she 
wondered,  if  he  is  broken-hearted  because  she  has 
refused  him? 

"Now  we  must  go,"  she  said.  "I  —  shouldn't 
like  to  be  late  for  my  appointment." 

"You  shan't  be  late,"  he  assured  her,  cheerfully. 
Then,  just  as  they  were  moving  away  from  the 
table,  he  stopped.  "  Will  you  give  me  one  of  those 
roses,"  he  asked,  "to  keep  for  a  souvenir?" 

Their  waiter  had  adorned  the  little  feast  with  a 
glass  containing  a  few  short-stemmed  roses.  Mary 
selected  the  prettiest,  a  white  one  just  unfolding 
from  the  bud,  and  gave  it  to  Captain  Hannaford. 
So  quickly  that  no  one  saw,  he  laid  it  against  her 
faintly  smiling  lips,  then  hid  it  inside  his  coat. 

When  the  taxi  had  rushed  up  the  upper  Corniche 
and  had  taken  the  carriage  road  to  Roquebrune, 
Mary  said  goodbye  to  Hannaford  in  the  Place 
under  the  great  wall  of  the  old  castle.  She  guessed 
that,  perhaps,  he  would  have  liked  an  invitation  to 
go  with  her  to  the  cure's  garden,  which  he  had  never 
seen.  But  she  did  not  give  the  invitation.  She 
even  lingered,  so  that  he  must  have  seen  she  wished 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     389 

him  to  drive  away;  and  he  took  the  hint,  if  it  were  a 
hint,  at  once. 

"Goodbye,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "Thank  you  a 
thousand  times,  for  everything." 

"But  it's  I  who  have  to  thank  you!"  she  pro- 
tested. 

"If  I  could  think  you  would  ever  feel  like  thank- 
ing me  for  anything,  I  should  be  glad. " 

He  released  her  hand,  after  pressing  it  once  very 
hard ;  got  into  the  taxi,  gave  the  chauffeur  the  name 
of  his  hotel  in  the  Condamine,  and  was  whirled  away. 
The  last  that  Mary  saw  of  him  he  was  looking  back, 
waving  his  hat  as  if  he  were  saying  goodbye  for  a 
long,  long  time. 


XXIV 

THE  big  clock  had  just  finished  striking  three  when 
Mary  entered  the  church  of  the  old  rock-town  on  the 
hill.  She  could  feel  the  vibration  of  the  last  stroke, 
as  if  the  heart  of  the  church  were  beating  heavily, 
in  sympathy  with  her  own. 

Coming  into  the  dimness  after  the  golden  bath  of 
sunlight  outside  was  like  being  plunged  into  night. 
For  an  instant  all  was  dark  before  Mary's  eyes,  as 
if  she  had  been  pushed  forward  with  her  face  against 
a  black  curtain.  The  once  familiar  perfume  of  in- 
cense came  pungently  to  her  nostrils,  sweet  yet 
melancholy,  like  a  gentle  reproach  for  neglect.  She 
seemed  to  be  again  in  the  convent  chapel  of  St. 
TJrsula-of-the-Lake.  Every  well-known  feature  of 
the  place  was  sharply  visible;  she  saw  the  carved 
screen  of  black  oak;  the  faces  of  Reverend  Mother 
and  the  sisters,  white  and  ardent  in  the  starlike  light 
of  tall  wax  candles;  she  heard  the  voices  of  women 
singing,  crystal  clear,  sweet  and  sexless  as  the  song 
of  angels.  The  old  oppression  under  which  she  had 
panted  in  the  last  days  of  her  novitiate  fell  upon  her 
again,  like  a  weight.  She  felt  that  her  soul  was  in 
a  strait- jacket.  Then,  as  she  had  often  felt  —  and 
prayed  not  to  feel  —  while  the  pure  voices  soared, 
the  sensation  of  being  shut  up  in  a  coffin  came  back 

390 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     391 

to  her.  She  was  nailed  into  a  coffin,  lying  straight 
and  still  under  cool,  faintly  scented  flowers;  dead, 
yet  not  dead  enough  to  rest.  The  terrible  longing 
to  burst  the  coffin  lid  and  live  —  live  —  made  her 
draw  a  deep,  quick  breath  as  of  one  choking,  just 
as  she  had  often  struggled  gaspingly  back  to  realities 
after  this  obsession,  while  the  singing  went  on  in 
the  dim  chapel  of  the  convent. 

It  began,  and  was  all  over  in  a  few  seconds.  By 
the  time  her  eyes  had  grown  used  to  the  twilight 
the  impression  of  old,  past  things  was  gone;  and 
relieved,  as  if  she  had  waked  from  a  dream  of 
prison,  Mary  took  note  of  everything  round  her: 
the  largeness  of  the  church,  the  effect  of  bareness, 
the  simple  decorations  of  the  altar.  She  dipped 
her  finger  in  the  holy  water,  and  knelt  to  pray  for 
a  moment,  wondering  if  she  had  the  right:  and 
when  she  rose  from  her  knees,  the  cure  stood  be- 
fore her. 

"Welcome,  my  daughter,"  he  said.  "I  thought 
you  were  of  the  old  faith.  Now  I  am  sure.  Thank 
you  for  coming.  I  should  like  to  give  you  my 
blessing  before  you  go  into  the  garden. " 

Presently  he  pointed  to  the  open  door  which 
framed  a  bright  picture  of  sky,  and  flowers  growing 
against  a  low  green  and  gold  background  of  orange 
and  lemon  trees. 

"Go  out  alone,"  he  told  her.  "I  have  to  stay 
here  in  church  a  while.  Walk  down  the  path  to  the 
wall,  and  look  at  the  beautiful  view.  Then  to  the 
left  you  will  see  an  arbour  at  the  end  of  the  garden. 


392     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Wait  there  for  me.  I  shall  follow  before  you  have 
time  to  grow  impatient." 

He  said  nothing  of  Vanno,  whom  she  had  been 
brought  there  to  meet,  and  to  "save."  Perhaps  the 
Prince  had  not  cared  to  come.  This  seemed  very 
probable  to  Mary;  yet  the  thought  that  he  might 
be  avoiding  her  did  not  stab  the  girl's  heart  with 
any  sharp  pang  of  shame  or  pain.  A  radiant  peace 
had  taken  possession  of  her  spirit,  stealing  into  it 
unaware,  as  the  perfume  of  lilies  may  take  possession 
of  the  senses,  before  the  lilies  are  seen.  Though  she 
felt  gratitude  and  something  almost  like  love  for 
the  cure,  she  was  glad  that  he  had  sent  her  into  his 
garden  alone.  The  flowery  knot  pinned  on  the 
bare  breast  of  mountain  seemed  even  more  to 
her  than  the  "fairyland"  Rose  Winter  had  de- 
scribed. "Angel-land,"  she  thought,  as  she  saw 
how  secret  and  hidden  the  bright  spot  was  on  its 
high  jutting  point  of  rock,  with  its  guardian  wall  of 
towering,  ivied  ruin  on  one  side,  and  the  tall  pale 
church  on  another.  She  felt  that  here  was  a  place 
in  which  she  might  find  herself  again,  the  self  that 
had  got  lost  in  the  dark,  somewhere  far,  far  below 
this  height. 

She  stood  by  the  low  wall  which  kept  the  garden 
from  the  precipice;  and  when  she  had  looked  east- 
ward to  Italy,  and  westward  where  the  prostrate 
giant  of  the  Tete  de  Chien  mourns  over  Monaco, 
she  turned  toward  the  arbour  in  which  the  cure  had 
told  her  to  wait.  Most  of  the  big  gold  and  copper 
grape-leaves  had  fallen  now,  but  some  were  left, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     393 

crisped  by  frost  until  they  seemed  to  have  been  cut 
from  thin  sheets  of  metal;  and  over  the  mass  of 
knotted  branches  rained  a  torrent  of  freshly  opened 
roses.  They  and  their  foliage  made  a  thick  screen, 
and  Mary  could  not  see  the  inside  of  the  arbour; 
but  as  she  reached  the  entrance  Vanno  stood  just 
within,  waiting  for  her,  very  pale,  but  with  a  light 
on  his  face  other  than  the  sunlight  which  streamed 
over  him.  Then  Mary  knew  that  something,  more 
intimately  herself  than  was  her  reasoning  mind,  had 
expected  him,  .and  had  never  believed  that  he  would 
refuse  to  come. 

He  held  out  both  hands,  without  a  word;  and  with- 
out a  word  she  gave  him  hers.  He  lifted  them  to 
his  lips,  and  kissed  first  one,  then  the  other.  Still 
keeping  her  hands  fast,  he  drew  them  down  so  that 
her  arms  were  held  straight  at  her  sides.  Standing 
thus,  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  the 
glory  of  the  sun  reflected  back  from  Vanno's  almost 
dazzled  Mary.  Never  in  her  life  had  she  known 
happiness  like  this.  She  felt  that  such  a  moment 
was  worth  being  born  for,  even  if  there  were  no  after 
joy  in  a  long  gray  existence;  and  the  truth  of  what 
she  had  many  times  read  without  believing,  pierced 
to  her  heart,  like  a  bright  beam  from  heaven:  the 
truth  that  love  is  the  one  thing  on  earth  which 
God  meant  to  last  forever. 

"Will  you  forgive  me?"  Vanno  asked,  his  eyes 
holding  hers. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "And  will  you  forgive  me,  for 
not, forgiving  you?" 


394     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"How  could  you  forgive  me,  when  you  thought 
of  me  as  you  did?  But  you  know  now  that  you 
thought  wrong." 

"Yes.  I  know.  Though  I  don't  know  how  I 
know. " 

"And  I  know  you  to  be  yourself.  That  means 
everything.  I  can't  say  it  in  any  other  way.  Be- 
cause it  was  your  real  self  I  knew  at  Marseilles  — 
the  self  I've  known  always,  and  waited  for,  and  am 
unworthy  of  at  last. " 

"Don't  call  yourself  unworthy." 

"I  won't  talk  about  that  part  at  all  —  not  yet.  I 
love  you  —  love  you!  and  —  God!  how  I  need  you." 

"Andl- 

" You  love  me?" 

He  loosed  her  hands,  and  catching  her  up,  lifted 
her  off  her  feet,  her  slight  body  crushed  against  his, 
her  head  pressed  back;  and  so  he  kissed  her  on  the 
mouth,  a  long,  long  kiss  that  did  away  with  any  need 
of  explanation  or  forgiveness.  There  was  no  return- 
ing afterward  to  the  old  selves  again,  they  both  knew 
before  their  lips  had  parted.  It  was  as  if  they  two 
had  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  high  tower  together, 
and  a  door  had  been  shut  and  locked  behind  them. 

By  and  by  he  made  her  sit  on  the  wooden  seat 
tinder  the  rose  canopy;  and  going  down  on  one 
knee,  he  took  up  a  fold  of  her  dress  and  kissed  it. 
No  man  but  one  of  Latin  blood  could  have  done  this 
and  kept  his  dignity;  but  as  he  did  the  thing  it  was 
beautiful,  even  sacred  to  Mary,  as  if  he  knelt  to  pour 
balm  on  the  wound  that  once  he  had  given  her. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     395 

Though  his  lips  touched  only  her  dress,  the  very 
hem  of  it,  she  felt  the  thrill  of  the  touch,  as  she  had  felt 
his  kiss  on  her  mouth.  This  was  her  lover,  and  her 
knight.  She  half  feared,  half  adored  the  thought 
that  from  this  moment  she  had  granted  him  rights; 
that  a  man  loved  her,  and  had  kissed  her,  and  that 
she  had  confessed  to  loving  him.  It  was  so  different 
from  anything  which  she  had  dreamed  could  come 
to  her  that  she  could  hardly  believe  it  was  happen- 
ing: for  when  she  had  left  the  convent  she  was  still 
a  nun  in  her  outlook  upon  life. 

Yet  now  this  bowed  dark  head,  and  the  rim  of 
brown  throat  between  the  short,  thick  hair  and  the 
stiff  white  collar,  looked  somehow  familiar,  as  if 
the  man  who  knelt  there  had  always  been  hers. 
So  dear  was  the  head,  so  boyish  in  its  humility,  that 
ridiculous  tears  rushed  smarting  to  her  eyes.  She 
wanted  to  laugh  and  to  cry.  Where  his  lips  had 
touched  her  dress,  she  almost  expected  to  see  a  spark 
of  light  clinging,  like  a  fallen  star. 

When  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  tears,  still  kneel- 
ing he  put  his  arms  around  her,  and  slowly  drew  her 
to  him.  Then  her  hands  stole  out  to  clasp  his  neck, 
her  fingers  interlacing,  and  she  let  her  cheek  lie  softly 
against  his.  His  face  was  hot  as  if  the  sun  had 
scorched  it,  and  she  could  feel  a  little  pulse  beating 
in  his  temple.  There  was  a  faint  suggestion  rather 
than  a  fragrance  of  tobacco  smoke  about  his  hair 
and  his  clothes,  which  made  her  want  to  laugh  with 
a  delightful,  childish  sense  of  amusement  that 
mingled  with  the  thrill  of  her  love  for  him. 


396     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You  always  belonged  to  me,  you  know,"  he 
said.  "What  time  I  have  wasted,  not  finding  you 
before!  But  I  knew  you  existed.  I  knew  always 
that  I  should  meet  you  some  day.  And  then  I 
nearly  lost  you  —  but  we  won't  talk  of  that,  be- 
cause you  have  forgiven  me:  and  forgiving  means 
forgetting,  doesn't  it?" 

She  answered  only  by  pressing  her  face  more 
closely  against  his. 

"But  there  are  other  things  for  you  to  forgive," 
he  went  on.  "I  used  to  think  I  was  very  strong, 
not  only  in  my  body  but  in  my  will.  Now  I  see 
that  I  can  be  weak.  Can  you  love  a  man  who 
does  things  he  knows  to  be  beneath  him?  I  have 
made  a  fool  of  myself  in  the  Casino  —  a  fool 
like  the  rest.  I  began  because  I  was  miserable, 
but- 

"Was  it  I  who  made  you  miserable?" 

"Yes.  But  that  is  no  excuse  for  me.  I  de- 
served it  all  and  more:  I'd  hurt  you.  And  after- 
ward, I  went  on  being  a  fool,  because  —  it  gave  me 
a  kind  of  pleasure,  when  I'd  lost  pleasure  in  other 
things.  It's  the  weakness  of  it  that  I  hate  in  my- 
self, not  so  much  the  thing  I  did.  A  woman  should 
have  a  man's  strength  to  lean  on,  if  she  is  to  love 
him.  Weakness  is  unpardonable  in  a  man.  Yet 
I'm  asking  you  to  forgive  it,  and  let  me  begin 
over  again. " 

"I  love  you  as  you  are,"  Mary  said.  "What 
am  I,  to  judge?  What  have  I  myself  been 
doing?" 


"You  are  a  girl;  and  you  are  so  young.  You 
knew  no  better.  I  knew.  You  were  led  on.  I 
walked  into  the  trap  with  my  eyes  open." 

"  I  was  warned.  My  father  just  before  he  died  wrote 
me  a  letter  saying  there  was  'gambler's  blood'  in 
my  veins.  Those  words  always  run  in  my  head 
now.  And  a  friend  who  loves  me  begged  me  not 
to  come  to  Monte  Carlo. " 

"It  was  Fate  brought  you  —  to  give  you  to  me. 
Do  you  regret  it?" 

"I  don't  regret  anything  —  if  you  don't;  because 
what  is  past  —  for  both  of  us  —  doesn't  feel  real. 
This  is  the  only  real  part.  We  were  brought  to 
Monte  Carlo  for  this,  it  seems  now." 

"It  seems,  and  it  is." 

They  looked  with  one  accord  down  at  the  Casino 
far  below,  which  from  the  cure's  garden  had  more 
than  ever  the  semblance  of  a  large,  crouching  animal. 
Its  four  horns  glittered  in  the  beginning  of  sunset,  as 
if  they  were  crusted  with  jewels  of  different  colours. 
Its  dominance  over  all  that  surrounded  it,  all  that 
was  smaller  and  less  powerful  and  impressive  than 
itself,  was  astonishingly  evident  from  this  bird's- 
eye  point  of  view;  but  brightly  as  the  jewels  gleamed, 
they  had  lost  their  allurement  for  these  two.  With 
Vanno's  arms  around  her,  Mary  wondered  how  she 
could  ever  have  felt  that  the  Casino  was  a  vast 
magnet  compelling  her  to  come  to  it  in  spite  of 
herself,  drawing  her  thoughts  and  her  money  to 
itself,  as  an  immense  magnetic  rock  might  draw  the 
nails  from  the  sides  of  a  frail  little  boat.  With 


398     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Mary's  fingers  warm  and  soft  as  rose-petals  against 
his  neck,  her  cheek  on  his,  Vanno  could  have  laughed 
with  contemptuous  pity  at  the  wretched  image  of 
himself  which  he  seemed  to  see  down  below,  stupidly 
hurrying  along  with  an  offering  for  the  Casino. 
He  was  not  so  much  shocked  at  his  own  yielding  to 
the  attraction  as  he  was  surprised  that  there  could 
have  been  so  strong  an  attraction. 

"Doesn't  it  look  stupid  down  there?"  Mary 
asked,  almost  in  a  whisper.  "Like  a  lot  of  toy 
houses  for  children  to  play  with?" 

"And  the  children  are  tired  of  playing  with  them ! " 
Vanno  answered.  "The  toys  there  were  only  worth 
playing  with  when  there  was  nothing  better  to  do." 

" That's  it ! "  she  echoed.  "  When  there  was  noth- 
ing better  to  do.  I  think  that  was  what  the  cure 
must  have  meant. " 

"  The  cure ! "  Vanno  echoed.     "  I'd  forgotten  him !" 

"So  had  I.  How  ungrateful  of  us.  But  you  have 
made  me  forget  everything  except  —  you." 

She  rose  slowly,  reluctantly,  and  then  pretended 
to  exert  her  strength  in  lifting  him  up  from  his  knees. 
"The  cure  stayed  away  on  purpose,"  she  said. 

"Yes.  For  he  meant  this  to  happen  —  just  as 
it  has. " 

Mary  smiled,  half  closing  her  eyes,  so  that  the 
world  swam  before  her  in  a  radiant  mist.  She  was 
less  afraid  of  love  and  the  man  who  gave  and  took 
it,  now.  Already  it  seemed  that  Vanno  and  she 
had  always  been  lovers,  not  sad,  parted  lovers,  but 
happy  playmates  in  a  world  made  for  them.  There 


"'IT   WAS   FATE   BROUGHT   YOU  —  TO   GIVE   YOU   TO   ME. 


DO   YOU   REGRET    IT  ? 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     399 

could  not  have  been  a  time  when  they  did  not  un- 
derstand each  other.  Everything  before  this  day 
had  been  a  dream.  "Do  you  know,"  she  said, 
"  why  I  came  here  —  I  mean,  why  the  cure  asked  me? 
He  told  me  that  I  must  come  and  'save'  you.  As 
if  I  could !  It  was  I  who  needed  saving. " 

"He  knew,"  Vanno  answered,  speaking  more  to 
himself  than  to  her,  "that  we  should  save  each 
other. " 

As  he  spoke,  a  foot  ostentatiously  rattled  the 
gravel  of  the  path,  at  a  safe  distance.  The  cure 
coughed,  and  coughed  again.  A  serious  catching 
in  the  throat  he  seemed  to  have,  for  a  man  who 
lived  in  the  fresh  air  and  laughed  at  the  notion  of 
a  "sunset  chill." 

Vanno  took  Mary's  hand  and  kept  it  in  his  as  he 
led  her  out  of  the  arbour. 

"This  is  what  your  blessing  has  done,  Father," 
he  said. 

Then,  the  cure  must  have  blessed  him,  too! 

The  priest  smiled  his  good  smile  as  he  came 
toward  them,  the  sky  flaming  behind  his  black-clad 
figure,  like  banners  waving. 

"I  thought.  I  hoped.  No,  I  knew!"  And  he 
smiled  contentedly.  "The  stars  have  ceased  to 
desire  the  moth,  a  well-known  phenomenon  which 
often  upsets  the  solar  system.  The  moth  has  lost 
its  attraction.  The  stars  have  found  each  other." 

"We  have  found  each  other,"  Mary  said,  "and  I 
believe  —  I  believe  that  we  have  found  ourselves, 
our  real  selves. " 


400      THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You  have  found  yourselves  and  each  other," 
echoed  the  cure,  "which  means  that  you  have 
found  God.  I  have  no  more  fear"  -  and  he 
waved  a  hand  toward  the  towered  building  down 
below,  set  on  fire  by  the  sun  —  "no  more  fear  of 
the  moth." 


XXV 

THEY  stayed  on,  after  their  friend  had  come  to 
them;  and  all  three  sat  together  in  the  arbour,  while 
the  shadows  hewed  quarries  of  sapphire  deep  into 
the  side  of  the  mountains;  and  in  the  violet  rain  of 
twilight  everything  on  land  and  water  that  was  white 
seemed  to  become  magically  alive:  the  fishing  boats 
turned  to  winged  sea  birds:  the  little  waves  were 
lilied  with  foam  blossoms:  the  sky  became  a  garden 
of  stars. 

When  Mary  first  went  to  live  at  the  convent,  an 
impressionable  child  of  eight,  one  of  the  nuns  told 
her  that  the  stars  were  spirits  of  children  in  heaven's 
nursery,  sent  out  to  play  in  the  sky,  that  their  moth- 
ers might  see  them  and  be  glad:  and  the  moon  was 
their  nurse.  She  repeated  the  legend  to  Vanno  and 
the  cure,  and  said  that  she  had  been  brought  up 
from  childhood  in  a  convent  school,  because  she  had 
lost  her  mother,  and  her  father  had  gone  away  to 
India;  but  she  did  not  say  that  she  had  taken  the 
first  steps  toward  becoming  a  nun.  She  wanted 
Vanno  to  hear  this  first,  when  they  were  alone 
together.  Not  that  she  feared  the  knowledge  might 
endanger  his  love  for  her.  In  this  immortal  hour 
it  seemed  that  nothing  could  ever  again  come 
between  them. 

401 


402     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"That  accounts  for  what  she  is,  does  it  not?" 
the  cure  exclaimed,  turning  to  Vanno  with  the 
joy  of  the  discoverer.  "A  convent  school!  Now, 
my  son,  what  puzzled  you  in  her  is  made  clear. 
I,  at  least,  might  have  guessed.  A  girl  brought  up 
by  a  band  of  good  and  innocent  cloistered  women 
must  always  be  different  from  other  girls.  She 
should  not  be  let  out  to  wander  alone  in  the  world 
without  guardians,  as  this  child  has  been;  for  with- 
out a  guide  a  few  mistakes  at  the  beginning  are 
certain.  Now,  she  has  made  all  the  mistakes  she 
need  ever  make;  and  she  is  no  longer  alone." 

"Never  again!"  Vanno  said  fervently,  pressing 
her  hand  under  the  blue  cover  of  dusk. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Mary  that  they  both  took  her 
for  a  much  younger  girl  than  she  really  was.  She 
had  lived  so  entirely  under  the  jurisdiction  of  those 
older  than  herself  that  in  many  ways  she  had  re- 
mained a  child.  And  she  had  begun  by  feeling  still 
younger  than  before,  after  suddenly  blossoming 
into  independence.  It  was  only  since  the  night  of 
Christmas,  when  the  frost  of  unhappiness  nipped  the 
newly  unfolded  petals,  that  the  flower  had  be- 
gun to  droop.  Now  that  dark  time  was  already 
forgotten.  She  could  hardly  realize  that  it  had 
ever  been.  In  the  joy  of  Vanno's  love  for  her,  and 
his  old  friend's  fatherly  kindness,  she  basked  in  the 
contentment  of  being  understood,  loved,  taken  care 
of;  and  she  knew  that  she  was  a  woman,  not  a  child, 
only  by  the  capacity  to  love  a  man  as  a  woman  loves. 
If  she  had  said,  "But  I  am  nearly  twenty-five," 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     403 

the  two  men  would  have  realized  at  once  that  her 
school  days  must  have  ended  long  ago,  even  if  pro- 
longed beyond  the  usual  time;  and  they  would  have 
asked  themselves,  if  they  had  not  asked  her,  where 
she  had  spent  the  years  between  then  and  now,  in 
order  to  account  for  that  ignorance  of  the  world 
which  to  them  explained  and  excused  everything 
she  had  done  at  Monte  Carlo.  But  it  did  not  enter 
Mary's  mind  to  mention  her  age. 

"JJpon  some  natures  such  teaching  might  not 
have  made  the  same  impression,  of  course,"  the 
cure  went  on,  thoughtfully.  "This  dear  child,  it 
seems  to  me,  has  a  very  —  how  shall  I  express  it?  — 
a  very  old-fashioned  nature.  Nothing,  I  believe, 
could  ever  have  turned  her  into  one  of  those  hard 
modern  girls  they  are  running  up  now  like  buildings 
made  of  concrete  on  steel  frames.  But  the  convent 
teaching  has  accentuated  all  in  her  that  was  already 
what  I  call  'old-fashioned.'  And  you,  too,  my 
Principino,  you  are  old-fashioned! 

"I?"  exclaimed  Vanno,  surprised. 

"Yes.  You  will  suit  each  other  well,  you  two, 
I  prophesy.  You  have  an  old-fashioned  nature: 
but  do  not  think  when  I  say  that,  I  place  you  on  a 
shelf  at  the  back  of  the  world's  cupboard.  All 
Romans,  all  Italian  men,  are  old-fashioned  at 
heart  —  and  it  is  the  heart  that  counts,  though  we 
do  not  always  know  it;  and  most  of  us  would  not 
like  others  to  know  it  of  ourselves.  You  have  been 
much  in  the  East,  Principino,  and  you  have  learned 
to  love  the  desert;  but  you  would  not  have  loved  it 


404     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

as  you  do  were  it  not  for  the  spirit  of  romance 
which  keeps  you  old-fashioned  under  a  very  thin 
veneer  of  what  is  modern.  I  saw  this  in  you  when 
you  were  a  boy  and  my  pupil;  and  I  must  say  it 
made  me  love  you  the  better.  It  is  perhaps  the 
secret  which  draws  the  love  of  others  toward  you, 
without  their  knowing  why,  though  it  has  caused 
life  to  jar  on  you  often,  no  doubt,  and  may  again. 
You  would  not,  perhaps,  have  fallen  into  the  mis- 
take by  which  you  hurt  yourself  and  this  dear  child 
if  you  had  not  been  old-fashioned.  Don't  you  see 
that?' 

"I  suppose  it  is  old-fashioned  to  have  an  ideal," 
Vanno  admitted,  laughing  a  little. 

"Yes.  And  most  old-fashioned  of  all,  even  I 
can  see,  are  your  ideas  of  women.  So  it  is  well 
you  have  fallen  in  love  with  one  who  is  not  modern. " 

"I  know  she  is  the  Only  Woman.  But  I  grant 
that  I  may  have  picked  up  some  Eastern  ideas  of 
what  a  woman's  life  ought  to  be.  I  must  get  rid 
of  them,  I  suppose." 

"You  didn't  'pick  those  ideas  up,'  my  son.  They 
were  in  your  blood.  All  the  same,  you  may  get 
rid  of  a  few  —  a  very  few  —  with  advantage.  And 
safely  too,  because  you  are  going  to  have  an  old- 
fashioned  girl  for  your  wife. " 

"I'm  going  to  have  her  very  soon,  I  hope, "  Vanno 
added,  in  a  different  tone. 

Mary  spoke  not  a  word;  and  he  did  not  press  her 
then  for  an  answer.  But  when  the  sudden  darkness 
of  the  southern  evening  had  warned  them  that  it 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     405 

was  time  to  go,  he  began  in  the  same  strain  again, 
after  they  had  left  the  tunnelled  streets  of  the  rock- 
village.  It  was  so  dark  that  Vanno  had  the  excuse 
of  saving  Mary  a  stumble  on  the  rough  cobblestones, 
as  they  went  slowly  down  the  mule  path.  He  held 
her  tightly,  his  arm  around  her  waist.  She  walked 
bareheaded,  trailing  her  hat  in  her  hand;  and  the 
warm  perfume  of  her  hair  came  to  him  like  the 
scent  of  some  hitherto  unknown  flower,  sweeter 
than  any  other  fragrance  that  the  evening  dew  dis- 
tilled. "I  want  you  to  be  my  wife  very  soon," 
he  said.  "I  must  have  you.  And  if  you're  as  old- 
fashioned  as  the  cure  thinks,  you  won't  say  no  to 
me  when  I  tell  you  that.  Shall  he  marry  us?" 

"Oh  —  that  would  mean  it  must  be  dreadfully 
soon!" 

"Is  there  a  'dreadfully?'  But  —  there's  one 
thing,  dearest,  that  I  almost  forgot.  I  must  write 
to  my  father.  Not  that  anything  he  could  say  would 
make  any  difference  now;  only  I  want  him  to  love 
you,  and  our  marriage  to  bring  him  happiness,  not 
pain,  even  in  the  thought  of  it  before  he  sees  you. 
My  brother  Angelo  has  married  lately,  and  he  didn't 
let  our  father  know  till  just  before  the  thing  was  done. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  his  fault.  I  can't  tell  as  to  that: 
there  must  have  been  a  strong  reason.  But  our 
father  was  deeply  hurt;  and  it  would  be  even  worse 
with  me,  for  he  makes  it  no  secret  that  I'm  his  favour- 
ite son.  I  believe  I'm  more  like  my  mother  than 
Angelo  is.  She  was  an  Irish-American  girl,  and  my 
father  adored  her:  though  sometimes  I  wonder  if 


406     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

he  knew  how  to  show  his  love.  Anyhow,  she  died 
young,  and  he's  been  almost  a  recluse  ever  since. 
I'll  write  him  at  once  —  and  I  may  even  go  to  see 
him,  though  I  can  hardly  bear  to  think  of  leaving 
you  long  enough  for  that.  Still,  it  needn't  be  for 
more  than  three  or  four  days  and  nights.  I  could 
go  and  come  back  in  that  time.  I'll  see!  But  if  I 
do  go,  it  must  be  to  tell  him  we're  to  be  married 
at  once,  from  my  brother's  house. " 

"Your  brother's  house?"  Mary  repeated. 

"Yes.  Angelo  has  taken  a  villa  at  Cap  Martin  for 
the  season.  Perhaps  you've  seen  it.  He  and  my 
new  sister-in-law  went  to  Ireland  to  visit  relatives 
of  my  mother,  and  to  England  afterward.  They've 
been  married  more  than  two  months;  but  I  saw  my 
sister-in-law  for  the  first  time  on  New  Year's  eve, 
the  day  they  arrived.  She's  English,  though  she 
has  lived  mostly  in  southern  Germany,  I  believe. 
She's  an  artist  —  does  portraits  beautifully,  I  hear, 
and  was  much  admired  in  Rome,  where  she  had 
come  to  paint,  when  my  brother  met  her.  I  know 
very  little  of  her  except  that  she's  pretty  and  charm- 
ing — if  any  woman  who  is  not  you  can  be  either. 
I'm  sorry  for  all  the  men  in  the  world,  poor  wretches, 
because  there's  only  one  you,  and  I've  got  you  for 
mine,  and  I  shall  let  them  see  as  little  of  you  as 
possible. " 

"That  really  is  old-fashioned!"  Mary  laughed. 

"Do  you  mind?     Do  you  want  to  see  them?" 

"Not  particularly.  Because  you  have  begun  to 
make  me  feel  the  others  aren't  worth  seeing. " 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     407 

"Angel!" 

They  both  laughed,  and  Vanno  was  entranced 
when  her  heel  slipped  on  a  stone,  and  he  could  clasp 
her  so  tightly  as  to  feel  the  yielding  of  her  body 
against  his  arm.  He  would  have  liked  to  sing,  the 
night  was  so  wonderful,  and  all  nature  seemed  to  be 
singing.  Distant  bells  chimed,  silver  sweet;  frogs 
in  hidden  garden  pools  harped  like  bands  of  fairy 
musicians;  and  from  everywhere  came  the  whisper 
and  gurgle  of  running  water:  springs  from  the  moun- 
tains, pouring  through  underground  canals  to  houses 
of  peasants,  who  bought  water  rights  by  the  hour. 

As  the  two  walked  down  the  many  windings  of 
the  mule  path  they  met  labourers  coming  up  from 
the  day's  work  in  the  country  of  the  rich,  far  below. 
Some  of  the  young  men,  clattering  along  in  groups, 
joined  in  singing  the  strange  tuneless  songs,  memories 
of  Saracen  days,  which  Vanno  had  heard  on  his 
first  mountain  walk.  The  old  men  did  not  sing. 
They  climbed  stolidly,  with  heads  and  shoulders 
bent,  yet  not  as  if  discouraged  by  the  thought  of 
the  long,  steep  way  before  them  before  they  could 
rest  at  home.  They  had  the  air  of  taking  life  as 
it  was,  entirely  for  granted. 

The  darkness  was  bleached  with  a  sheen  of  stars, 
and  the  pulsing  beams  that  shot  across  the  sky 
from  the  lighthouses  of  Cap  Ferrat  and  Antibes. 
Here  and  there,  too,  an  electric  lamp  dangled  from  a 
wire  over  the  mule  path,  and  revealed  a  flash  of 
white  teeth  in  a  dark  face  or  struck  a  glint  from  a 
pair  of  deep  Italian  eyes.  But  they  were  the  eyes 


408     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

and  the  teeth  of  young  men,  or  of  girls  climbing 
with  baskets  of  washing  on  their  heads.  The  old 
men  looked  down,  watching  their  own  footsteps; 
and  their  stooping  figures  were  vague  and  shadowy 
as  ships  that  pass  in  the  night,  not  to  be  recognized 
if  seen  again  by  daylight.  Now  and  then  a  little 
old  woman  stumbled  up  the  path,  driving  a  donkey 
which  tripped  daintily  along  in  silent  primness,  un- 
der a  load  of  fresh-cut  olive  branches.  The  sound 
of  the  tiny  feet  on  the  stones  and  the  swish  of  olive 
leaves  against  the  wall  added  to  the  poetry  of  the 
night  for  Vanno,  though  he  reflected  that  it  was  all 
commonplace  enough  to  the  donkeys  and  the  women, 
who  were  as  important  as  he  in  the  scheme  of  things. 
After  all,  it  was  but  a  question  of  thinking! 

Boys  coming  up  from  some  late  errand,  played  at 
being  soldiers,  and  sprang  out  at  each  other  from 
behind  jutting  corners  of  rock,  imitating  the  firing 
of  guns,  or  uttering  explosive  cries. 

Vanno  felt  a  great  kindness  for  all  the  world,  and 
especially  for  these  people  who  —  almost  all  of 
them  —  had  the  blood  of  Italy  in  their  veins.  He 
remembered  the  cure's  saying  with  a  smile  that 
even  now,  if  all  Italians  were  banished  from  the 
French  coast  between  Cannes  and  Mentone,  the 
Riviera  would  be  emptied  of  more  than  half  its 
inhabitants;  and  it  gave  him  a  warm  feeling  in  his 
heart  to  be  surrounded  by  people  of  his  own  blood, 
at  this  moment  of  his  great  happiness.  He  would 
have  liked  to  give  these  men  something  to  make 
them  happy  also,  for  he  knew  that  they  were  poor, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     409 

and  that  those  who  were  most  fortunate  were  those 
who  worked  hardest.  Each  shadowy  figure,  as  it 
passed  on  its  way  up  the  mountain,  gave  out  a  faint 
odour,  not  disagreeable  or  dirty,  but  slightly  pun- 
gent, and  like  the  smell  of  iron  filings:  what  Tolstoi 
called  "the  good  smell  of  peasants." 

The  fire  which  had  enveloped  all  Monte  Carlo  at 
sunset  had  burnt  out  long  ago,  but  in  the  west  a 
faint  red-brown  glow  smouldered,  as  if  a  smoky 
torch  had  been  trailed  along  the  horizon.  Monte 
Carlo  and  the  Rock  of  Monaco  rose  out  of  the  steel- 
bright  sea  like  one  immense  jewel-box,  or  a  huge 
purple  velvet  pincushion,  stuck  full  of  diamond  and 
topaz  headed  pins,  with  here  and  there  a  ruby  or  an 
emerald.  These  lights,  reflected  in  the  water,  trailed 
down  into  mysterious  depths,  like  illuminated  roots 
of  magic  flowers;  and  the  bright  shimmer  spreading 
out  over  the  moving  ripples  lay  on  the  surface  like 
glittering  chain-armour. 

Although  they  had  the  blaze  of  these  amazing 
jewels  always  before  their  eyes,  somehow  in  talking 
Mary  and  Vanno  contrived  to  lose  the  way, 
descending  to  the  high  road  nearer  Cap  Martin 
than  Monte  Carlo.  It  was  six  o'clock,  and  a  long 
tramp  home  along  the  level,  in  the  dust  thrown  up 
by  motors  and  the  trotting  hoofs  of  horses,  but  in 
the  distance  a  tram  car  coming  from  Mentone  sent 
out  a  shower  of  electric  sparks,  like  fireflies  crushed 
to  death  between  iron  wheels  and  iron  track.  As 
the  car  advanced,  Vanno  stepped  out  into  the  road 
and  hailed  it.  No  arret  was  near,  but  the  driver 


410     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

stopped,  with  an  obliging,  French-Italian  smile, 
and  the  two  young  people  almost  hurled  themselves 
into  empty  seats  at  the  first-class  end  of  the  tram. 
Faces  which  had  been  inclined  to  frown  at  the 
illegal  delay,  even  of  six  seconds,  smoothed  into 
good  nature  at  sight  of  the  handsome  couple. 
Every  one  at  once  took  it  for  granted  that  they  were 
lovers.  Mary's  hair,  ruffled  by  the  hasty  putting 
on  of  her  hat,  without  a  mirror,  told  the  story  of  a 
stolen  kiss  to  German  eyes  swimming  with  senti- 
ment and  romance  —  eyes  which  to  an  unappre- 
ciative  world  appeared  incapable  of  either.  Most  of 
the  eyes  in  this  first-class  compartment  were  Ger- 
man eyes,  and  some  of  the  faces  out  of  which  they 
looked  were  round  and  uninteresting;  but  not  all. 
German  was  the  language  being  loudly  talked  across 
the  car,  from  one  seat  to  another;  and  a  German 
mandate  had  caused  all  the  windows  and  ventilators 
to  be  shut,  in  fear  of  that  fatal  thing,  "a  draught." 
English  people  sitting  stiffly  in  corners,  boiling  with 
the  desire  to  protest  yet  too  reserved  and  proud  to 
"risk  a  row,"  raged  internally  with  the  belief  that 
their  German  neighbours  were  coarse,  food-loving, 
pushing,  selfish  creatures  who  cared  nothing  for  the 
beauty  of  the  Riviera,  and  came  only  because  of 
the  cheap  round  trip,  and  the  hope  of  winning  a  few 
five-franc  pieces.  The  real  truth  was  very  different. 
The  "pushing  creatures"  were  selfish  only  because 
they  were  not  self-conscious.  They  were  as  per- 
fectly happy  as  children.  They  raved  loudly  in 
ecstasy  over  the  beauty  of  everything,  and  were 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     411 

blissfully  ignorant  that  it  was  possible  for  any  one 
to  despise  or  hate  them.  Frankly  they  admired 
Vanno  and  Mary,  staring  in  the  unblinking,  un- 
ashamed, beaming  way  that  children  have  of  re- 
garding what  interests  them;  and  their  kind,  un- 
snobbish  hearts  went  out  to  the  young  couple  as 
no  English  hearts  in  the  car  went  out. 

Two  persons  sitting  together  at  the  other  end, 
but  on  the  same  side  as  the  newcomers,  could  not 
see  what  the  pair  were  like,  without  bending  forward 
and  stretching  out  their  necks.  One  of  these,  fired 
by  the  intense  interest  displayed  on  German  faces, 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  be  curious.  She 
peered  round  the  corner  of  a  large,  well-filled  over- 
coat from  Berlin,  and  saw  Mary  and  Vanno  smiling 
at  each  other,  as  oblivious  of  all  observers  as  though 
they  had  the  tram  to  themselves. 

"You  must  take  a  peep,  St.  George,"  she  said  in 
her  husband's  ear,  that  she  might  be  heard  over  the 
noise  of  the  tram,  without  roaring.  "It's  that 
beautiful  Miss  Grant  I  told  you  about;  and  she's 
with  the  Roman  Prince  who  invented  the  parachute 
Rongier  used  in  the  Nice  'flying  week.'  They  are 
certainly  in  love  with  each  other!  They  couldn't 
look  as  they  do  if  they  weren't.  Perhaps  they're, 
engaged.  Poor  Dick!  All  his  trouble  for  nothing. " 

"Why  poor  Dick?"  inquired  the  Reverend  George 
Winter. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Saint,  don't  put  on  your  long-dis- 
tance manner,  and  forget  everything  that  hasn't  a 
direct  connection  with  heaven.  But  these  two  quite 


412     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

look  as  if  they'd  just  been  up  there  by  special  aero- 
plane. Don't  you  remember  my  telling  you,  Dick's 
awfully  in  love  with  this  girl,  and  took  me  to  see  her 
again  yesterday,  though  she  never  returned  my 
first  call?  But  I  was  glad  I  went,  because  she  was 
really  sweet  and  charming,  and  I  hated  to  think  of 
her  living  in  that  deadly  villa." 

"Yes,  I  remember  distinctly,"  said  Winter,  with 
a  twinkle  of  humour  in  the  eyes  which  seemed  al- 
wrays  to  see  things  that  no  one  else  could  see. 
"You  told  me  when  I  was  in  the  midst  of  writing  a 
sermon,  and  had  got  to  a  particularly  knotty  point; 
so  I  tangled  Dick  and  his  love  affairs  into  the  knot, 
while  trying  to  put  them  out  of  my  mind.  I'm 
afraid  they  didn't  do  my  sermon  much  good.  And 
beautiful  as  Miss  Grant  may  be,  I  won't  dislocate 
my  neck  to  look  at  her  in  a  tram.  I  advise  you  not 
to  do  so,  either.  Set  our  German  friends  a  good  ex- 
ample. " 

"Why  is  it  the  best  of  people  always  advise  you 
not  to  do  all  the  things  you  want  to  do,  and  vice 
versa?"  observed  Rose,  pleased  with  her  success 
in  catching  Mary's  eye.  They  bowed  to  each  other, 
smiling  warmly.  Vanno  took  off  his  hat,  and  Rose 
thought  him  exactly  what  a  prince  ought  to  be  and 
generally  is  not. 

"That's  the  wife  of  the  English  chaplain  at  Monte 
Carlo,"  Mary  informed  Vanno,  in  a  stage  whisper, 
"She's  an  American.  She  called  on  me  yesterday; 
and  only  think,  though  she'd  never  seen  me  before, 
she  said  she  would  like  me  to  visit  her. " 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     413 

"Did  you  accept?"  Vanno  asked. 

Mar}7  shook  her  head.  "No.  It  would  have 
hurt  Lady  Dauntrey's  feelings,  perhaps.  And  be- 
sides, yesterday  I  —  I  thought  of  going  away  soon, 
to  Italy  —  to  Florence.  I  was  travelling  to  Florence 
when  suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  to  get  off  at  Monte 
Carlo  instead.  Ohyhow  thankful  I  am  now !  Think, 
if  we  had  never  met?" 

"We  should  have  met.  I  was  following  you  from 
Marseilles,  you  know,  and  watching  to  see  where 
you  got  off.  What  can  your  people  have  been  made 
of,  letting  you  run  about  alone  —  a  girl  like  you?" 

"Oh,  but  I  have  no  people  —  who  count.  Only 
such  a  disagreeable  aunt  and  her  daughter!  I 
haven't  written  to  them  since  I  came  here.  I  tele- 
graphed, and  gave  no  address.  I  shall  not  write  — 
until  —  until  - 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  though  you  won't  say  it. 
'Until  we  are  married.'  You  need  not,  unless  you 
like,  for  they  must  have  been  brutes  of  women  to 
have  been  disagreeable  to  you.  But  I  wish  you 
would  stay  with  this  lady  —  the  chaplain's  wife. 
Or  else  with  my  sister-in-law.  I  shall  go  to  see  her 
and  Angelo  to-morrow  morning,  and  tell  them 
about  you.  I'll  ask  them  to  call  at  once,  and  then 
-  I  feel  almost  sure  —  Marie  will  invite  you  to 
visit  her.  Would  you  accept?  For  that  would  be 
best  of  all.  And  in  any  case  we  must  be  married 
from  their  house. " 

"Marie!"  Mary  echoed  the  name,  her  voice 
dwelling  upon  it  caressingly.  "Marie!  That  was 


414     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  name  of  my  —  not  my  best,  but  my  second  best 
friend  at  school.  We  were  three  Maries.  It  will 
be  good  of  your  Marie  to  call  on  me;  but  she  is  a 
bride,  and  it's  still  her  honeymoon.  Do  you  think, 
if  we  —  that  is " 

Vanno  laughed.  "If  you  put  it  in  that  way,  I 
don't.  No,  if  we  were  on  our  honeymoon  I  couldn't 
tolerate  a  third,  if  it  were  an  angel.  But  it  seems 
as  if  every  one  must  want  you." 

"Hush!     People  will  hear  you." 

Just  then  a  party  of  three  Englishwomen  rose, 
and  descended  from  the  tram  to  go  to  a  villa  in  the 
Avenue  de  la  Vigie.  This  exodus  left  a  vacancy 
opposite  the  Winters. 

"Shall  WTC  move  over  there,  before  the  tram  gets 
going  too  fast?"  Mary  suggested.  "I  feel  Mrs.  Win- 
ter wrould  like  to  talk  to  us." 

Vanno  agreed.  He  was  anxious  for  the  invitation 
to  be  renewed.  And  in  a  few  moments  after  they 
had  begun  talking  to  the  Winters  across  the  narrow 
aisle,  his  wish  was  granted.  Rose  told  her  husband 
that  she  had  asked  Mary  to  stay  with  them,  and 
ordered  him  to  urge  the  suggestion. 

"You  see,"  Rose  confided  to  her  opposite  neigh- 
bours, leaning  far  forward,  her  elbows  on  her  knees, 
"I  always  try  to  have  some  perfectly  charming  per- 
son in  our  one  little  spare  room,  while  the  'high 
season'  is  on,  or  else  the  most  terrible  bores  beg  us 
to  take  them  in.  People  like  that  seem  to  think  you 
have  a  house  or  an  apartment  on  the  Riviera  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  putting  them  up  for  a  fortnight 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     415 

or  so.  It's  positively  weakening!  We've  just  got 
rid  of  an  appalling  young  man,  whom  my  husband 
asked  out  of  sheer  pity:  a  schoolmaster,  who'd  come 
here  for  his  health  and  inadvertently  turned  gambler. 
At  first  he  won.  He  used  to  haunt  my  tea-parties, 
which,  as  we're  idiotically  good-natured,  are  often 
half  made  up  of  criminals  and  frumps.  Extra- 
ordinarily congenial  they  are,  too!  The  criminals 
are  flattered  to  meet  the  frumps,  and  the  frumps 
find  the  criminals  thrilling.  This  was  one  of  our 
male  frumps:  like  an  owl,  with  neglige  eyebrows, 
and  quite  mad,  round  eyes  behind  convex  glasses. 
He  used  to  shed  gold  plaques  out  of  his  clothes  on 
to  my  floor,  because  whenever  he  won  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  tucking  the  piece  down  his  collar  lest 
he  should  be  tempted  to  risk  it  on  the  tables  again. 
But  at  last  there  were  no  more  gold  pieces  to  shed, 
and  his  eyes  got  madder  and  rounder.  And  then 
St.  George  invited  him  to  stay  with  us,  in  order  that  I 
might  reform  him.  I  did  try,  for  I  was  sorry  for 
the  creature:  he  seemed  so  like  one  of  one's  own 
pet  weaknesses,  come  alive.  But  after  he  threatened 
to  take  poison  at  the  luncheon  table,  my  husband 
thought  it  too  hard  on  my  nerves.  I  began  to  get 
so  thin  that  my  veils  didn't  fit;  and  George  sent  the 
I  man  home  to  his  mother,  at  our  expense.  At  the 
present  moment  a  soldier  boy  on  leave  —  a  Casino 
pet,  whom  all  the  ladies  love  and  lend  money  to, 
and  give  good  advice  to,  and  even  the  croupiers  are 
quite  silly  about,  though  he  roars  at  them  when  he 
loses  —  is  hinting  to  visit  us,  so  that  I  may  undertake 


416     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  saving  of  his  soul,  and  incidentally  what  money 
he  has  left.  But  he  carries  a  nice  new  revolver, 
and  shows  it  to  the  prettiest  ladies  when  they  are 
sympathizing  the  most  earnestly.  And  he  has  no 
mother  to  whom  we  can  send  him,  if  he  attempts  to 
add  his  pistol  to  our  luncheon  menu.  Do,  do  save 
us  from  the  Casino  pet,  dear  Miss  Grant.  I've 
been  holding  an  awful  aunt  of  George's  over  the 
young  man's  head,  saying  she  may  arrive  at  any 
minute.  But  you  know  how  things  you  fib  about 
do  have  a  way  of  happening,  as  a  punishment, 
and  I  feel  she  may  drop  down  on  us  if  the  room 
isn't  occupied. " 

They  all  laughed,  even  the  chaplain,  whom  Mrs. 
Winter  evidently  delighted  in  trying  to  shock. 
"I  should  like  Miss  Grant  to  be  with  you,"  Vanno 
said ;  and  this  —  if  she  had  not  guessed  already  - 
would  have  been  enough,  Rose  thought,  "to  give  the 
show  away."  "I  should  like  her  to  go  to  you  at 
once,  since  you  are  so  kind. " 

"Kind  to  ourselves!"  Rose  smiled.  "Will  you 
come,  Miss  Grant?" 

Mary  hesitated.  "I  should  love  it,  but- —  I  hate 
to  be  rude  to  poor  Lady  Dauntrey." 

"If  I  hadn't  dedicated  my  life  to  a  member  of  the 
clergy,  I  know  what  I  should  want  to  say  about 
Lady  Dauntrey,"  Rose  remarked,  looking  wicked. 
"Can't  you,  Prince  —  well,  not  say  it,  but  do 
something  to  rescue  Miss  Grant,  without  damage 
to  any  one's  feelings?" 

"I  mean  to,"  Vanno  answered.     "I  wanted  her 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     417 

to  visit  my  brother  and  sister-in-law,  but  —  they're 
on  their  honeymoon,  and  - 

"I  see,"  Rose  interpolated.  She  did  not  volun- 
teer the  information  that  her  own  honeymoon  was 
but  just  ended.  Evidently  it  was  to  be  taken 
quietly  for  granted  that  these  two  were  engaged. 
She  guessed  that  Prince  Vanno  had  hinted  at  the 
truth  in  order  that  she  should  not  misconstrue 
Mary's  actions.  He  was  almost  forcing  their 
relationship  upon  her  notice,  and  her  husband's 
notice,  as  if  to  justify  his  being  with  the  girl 
unchaperoned. 

"Not  that  we  should  have  minded,"  Rose  said  to 
herself.  "There's  no  room  in  St.  George's  'thought- 
bag'  for  any  bad  thoughts,  it's  so  cram  full  of  good 
ones.  And  he's  taught  me  how  horrid  it  is,  always 
rehearsing  the  judgment  day  for  one's  friends." 

She  threw  a  warm-hearted  glance  at  her  husband, 
valuing  his  kindly  qualities  the  more  because  they 
two  had  just  come  from  a  tea-party,  at  a  villa  where 
the  alternative  to  bridge  had  been  telling  the  whole 
truth  about  people  behind  their  backs,  and  digging 
up  Pasts  by  the  roots,  as  children  unearth  plants  to 
see  if  they  have  grown.  Luckily  St.  George  had 
remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  latter  popular 
game.  People  showed  only  their  best  side  to  him, 
and  made  good  resolutions  about  the  other,  while 
his  influence  was  upon  them. 

"As  for  us,"  Rose  went  on,  "we're  quite  a  staid 
married  couple,  and  I  feel  I'm  intended  by  nature 
for  the  ideal  chaperon  —  for  a  blonde  like  Miss 


418     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Grant.  We  shall  look  charming  together,  and  though 
we  mayn't  make  her  comfortable,  I  guarantee 
to  amuse  her;  for  as  a  household  we  are  unique. 
We  live  in  an  ugly,  square  apartment  house  —  a 
kind  of  quadrupedifice  —  and  our  cook  is  in  love, 
consequently  her  omelettes  are  like  antimacassars; 
but  I  have  a  chafing-dish,  and  the  most  wonderful 
maid,  and  our  tea-parties  are  famous  —  honey- 
combed with  countesses  and  curates,  to  say  nothing 
of  curiosities.  And  my  husband,  though  a  clergy- 
man, lets  me  go  to  all  the  lovely  concerts  where  the 
dear  conductor  grabs  up  music  by  the  handful  and 
throws  it  in  the  faces  of  his  orchestra.  The  only 
thing  beginning  with  a  C,  which  Miss  Grant  will 
have  to  miss  with  us,  is  —  the  Casino." 

"I  shan't  miss  that!"  Mary  exclaimed;  then 
flushed  brightly. 

"Does  that  mean  you  will  come?" 

"Yes.  It  does  mean  that  she  will  come,"  Vanno 
spoke  for  her. 

"I  think,"  remarked  Rose,  "that  your  future 
husband  is  a  masterful  person  who  intends  you  to 
*toe  the  line.'  But  if  it's  his  heart  line,  it  will  be 
all  right." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Vanno,  "for  we  are  both  very 
old-fashioned."  He  looked  at  Mary,  and  she  at 
him.  It  was  adorable  to  have  little  secrets  that 
nobody  else  could  understand. 

Rose,  dearly  as  she  loved  her  husband,  almost 
envied  them  for  an  instant:  lovers  only  just  en- 
gaged, with  no  cooks  and  housemaids  and  accounts 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     419 

to  think  of:  nothing  but  each  other,  and  poetry 
and  romance.  Yet,  she  was  not  quite  sure,  on  sec- 
ond thoughts,  that  she  did  envy  them.  Vaguely  she 
seemed  to  see  something  fatal  in  the  two  handsome, 
happy  faces ;  something  that  set  them  apart  from  the 
comfortable,  commonplace  experiences  of  the  rest 
of  the  world. 

"I  think  —  after  all  I'd  rather  be  myself  than 
that  girl,"  she  decided. 


XXVI 

VANNO'S  way  of  atonement  for  continuing  to  live 
at  Monte  Carlo  was  to  lunch  or  dine  each  day  at  the 
Villa  Mirasole.  On  the  first  morning  of  his  great 
happiness  he  was  due  there  for  luncheon  at  one 
o'clock,  but  having  news  to  tell,  he  decided  to  go 
early.  There  was  little  danger  of  finding  Marie  and 
Angelo  out,  for  they  walked  after  an  early  breakfast, 
and  generally  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  their 
own  garden,  or  on  the  covered  loggia  of  the  villa, 
which  looked  toward  the  sea.  In  the  afternoon 
they  sometimes  took  excursions  in  their  motor-car, 
but  they  made  no  social  engagements  and  never 
went  to  Monte  Carlo,  not  even  to  the  opera  or  con- 
certs. This  had  struck  Vanno  as  being  odd;  but 
soon  he  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  they  cared  for 
no  society  except  each  other's,  which  was  after  all 
quite  natural. 

Of  late,  Vanno's  habit  had  been  to  dash  over  to 
Cap  Martin  at  the  last  minute  in  a  taxi  and  back 
again  in  the  same  hurried  way,  in  order  to  give  him- 
self as  much  time  as  possible  in  the  Casino;  but  this 
morning  the  Casino  had  seemed  of  no  more  impor- 
tance to  him  than  the  railway  station.  It  was  as  the 
cure  had  prophesied,  for  Vanno  as  for  Mary:  the 
absorbing  new  interest  had  pushed  out  the  old,  from 

420 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     421 

hearts  in  which  there  was  room  only  for  love.  The 
other  obsession  was  gone  as  if  it  had  never  been,  as 
a  cloud  which  broods  darkly  over  a  mountain  top 
is  carried  away  by  a  fresh  gust  of  wind,  leaving  no 
trace  on  the  mountain  steeped  in  sunshine. 

Instead  of  lying  in  bed  until  time  to  bathe  and 
dress  for  the  Casino,  Vanno  rose  early,  according  to 
his  old  custom.  It  was  as  if  he  opened  a  neglected 
book  at  a  page  where  a  marker  had  been  placed, 
and  began  to  read  again  with  renewed  and  increased 
interest.  By  nine  o'clock  he  was  at  the  Villa  Bella 
Vista,  asking  for  Mary,  who  had  promised  to  see 
him.  They  had  arranged  that  he  was  to  tell  Lord 
and  Lady  Dauntrey  not  only  of  their  engagement, 
but  of  Mary's  decision  to  leave  their  house  for  a 
visit  to  Mrs.  Winter.  She,  however,  had  summoned 
unexpected  courage  and  had  already  broken  the 
news.  It  had  seemed  treacherous,  she  explained 
to  Vanno,  to  go  to  bed  and  say  nothing;  so  on  an 
impulse  she  had  told  them  all;  and  both  had  been 
kind. 

Lady  Dauntrey,  who  seldom  appeared  before  ten 
o'clock — Casino  opening  time  —  was  not  only  dressed 
but  had  breakfasted  when  Vanno  came.  She  broke 
in  upon  Mary  and  the  Prince  in  the  drawing-room, 
seemed  surprised  to  find  them  there,  apologized 
laughingly,  and  with  an  attempt  at  tact  congratu- 
lated Vanno.  "I've  got  awfully  fond  of  this  dear 
girl,"  she  said,  looking  Vanno  straight  in  the  eyes, 
a  way  of  hers  when  people  had  to  be  impressed 
by  a  statement.  "I  think  there's  nobody  like 


422     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her,  and  I  —  we  —  will  miss  her  horribly.  But 
you've  a  right  to  take  her  away.  You  can  see  her 
more  comfortably,  and  everything  will  be  better  at 
the  chaplain's  than  here.  Quite  a  different  atmos- 
phere, I  dare  say !  Only  I  hope  she  won't  forget  us. 
I've  tried  to  do  my  best  for  her." 

As  she  said  this,  a  mist  softened  her  hard  eyes, 
and  she  ingeniously  pushed  the  beginnings  of  tears 
back  whence  they  came,  with  the  lace  edge  of  her 
handkerchief,  fearing  damage  to  her  lashes.  As 
she  did  this,  Vanno  noticed  that  her  hands  were 
extraordinarily  secretive  in  shape  and  gesture.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  they  contradicted  the  expression 
of  her  decorative  face,  whose  misty  eyes  and  quiver- 
ing lips  had  begun  to  disarm  him,  even  to  make  him 
wonder  if  he  had  partly  misjudged  her.  The  hands, 
large  and  pale  rather  than  white,  appeared  to  curve 
themselves  consciously  in  an  effort  to  look  small, 
pretty,  young,  and  aristocratic,  though  they  were 
in  reality  worn  by  nervousness,  as  if  disappoint- 
ments and  harsh,  perhaps  terrible,  experiences  had 
kept  them  thin  and  made  them  old,  though  face 
and  body  had  contrived  to  remain  young.  It  was 
as  if  things  the  woman  had  known  and  endured 
had  determined  to  betray  themselves  in  some  way, 
and  had  seized  upon  her  hands.  Suddenly  it  was  as 
if  Vanno  had  been  given  a  key,  and  had  heard  a 
whisper:  "This  unlocks  the  secret  of  a  woman's 
nature";  and  he  was  almost  ashamed  of  having  used 
the  key,  even  for  an  instant,  as  if  he  had  peeped  into 
a  room  where  some  one  in  torment  was  writhing  in 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     423 

silent  passion.  He  said  nothing  of  this,  afterward, 
but  he  could  not  forget;  and  when  Mary  half  guiltily 
praised  Lady  Dauntrey's  warmth  of  heart  and  real 
affection,  he  was  even  more  glad  than  before  to  take 
the  girl  away,  He  was  glad,  too,  that  Angelo  and 
Marie  would  meet  her  for  the  first  time  at  the  Win- 
ters', not  in  the  Dauntrey  menage. 

To-day  he  did  not  dash  off  in  a  taxi  to  Cap  Martin; 
but  having  taken  Mary  and  a  small  instalment  of 
her  luggage  to  the  Winters'  apartment,  sheer  joy 
of  life  urged  him  to  walk  to  his  brother's.  He  was 
so  happy  that  he  felt  like  a  mountain  spring  let 
loose  in  wind  and  sunshine,  after  being  long  pent  up 
underground. 

A  short  cut  through  the  glimmering  olive  grove 
of  the  Cap  led  toward  the  Villa  Mirasole,  and  plung- 
ing into  the  gray-green  gloom  he  came  suddenly 
upon  the  cure  and  two  little  acolytes,  the  boys  robed 
in  white  and  scarlet.  Their  figures  moving  under 
the  arbour  of  old  trees  were  like  red  and  silver 
poppies  blown  by  the  wind,  or  wonderful  tropical 
birds  astray  in  the  woods:  and  a  glint  of  sunshine 
striking  the  censer  was  a  thin  chain  of  gold  linking 
it  to  the  sky. 

To  meet  this  little  procession  astonished  Vanno, 
but  the  cure  turned  to  smile  at  him  without  sur- 
prise. "Well  met!"  he  said.  "We  are  on  our  way 
to  bless  the  villa.  Last  night  after  you  went  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  Princess  asking  us  to  come 
this  morning,  as  they  are  now  quite  settled.  So 
here  we  are,  these  children  and  I.  And  I  hoped 


424     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

that  you  would  be  lunching  with  your  brother  and 
sister-in-law,  for  it  is  a  pretty  ceremony,  the 
blessing.  You  will  tell  them  to-day  —  what  has 
happened?" 

The  cure  slackened  his  pace,  for  a  talk  with  his 
Prince,  and  the  acolytes  walked  ahead,  two  brilliant 
little  figures,  wThose  robes  sent  out  faint  whiffs  of 
incense-perfume. 

"Yes.  I've  come  early  on  purpose  to  tell,"  said 
Vanno.  "But  the  first  business  is  the  blessing  of 
the  house.  That  will  put  them  in  a  good  mood.  I 
hope  you  are  going  to  lunch  with  us  afterward?" 

"Yes.  The  Princess  has  been  so  kind  as  to  ask 
me,  and  I  will  stay.  If  you  like,  I  can  say  good 
things  of  Mademoiselle,  your  charming  fiancee." 

"That  is  wThat  I  was  thinking!"  Vanno  admitted. 
"Do  you  know,  Father,  I've  been  incredibly  stupid. 
Yrou  will  hardly  believe  it  when  I  tell  you  —  but  I 
have  not  yet  found  out  her  Christian  name." 

"  Tiens!"  exclaimed  the  cure.  "You  did  not  ask? 
But,  my  Principino,  it  is  impossible.  What  did  you 
call  her?" 

"If  you  must  know,  I  called  her  *  Angel,'  and 
'Darling,'  and  perhaps  a  few  other  things  like  that. 
Any  other  name  seemed  quite  unimportant  at  the 
time:  but  after  I'd  left  her  this  morning  at  Mrs. 
Winter's  (where  she  is  going  to  visit,  thank  heaven !) 
it  flashed  into  my  mind  that  I'd  never  heard  her 
name.  It  begins  with  'M,'  that's  all  I  know.  I 
couldn't  very  well  rush  back,  ring  the  door  bell,  and 
inquire.  I  must  find  out  somehow  now  without 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     425 

asking,  as  it's  too  absurd,  when  we've  been  engaged 
since  yesterday  afternoon." 

Talking,  they  came  near  the  edge  of  the  olive 
wood,  where  a  narrow  lane  divided  the  olives  from 
a  sea  of  pines.  The  white  main  road  in  the  distance 
was  empty,  and  silent  with  the  digestive  silence  of 
Riviera  thoroughfares  at  noon,  when  all  the  world, 
from  millionaire  to  peasant,  begins  to  think  of  the 
midday  meal.  Even  motors  were  at  rest,  com- 
fortably absorbing  petrol  and  leaving  the  roads  to 
sleep  in  peace.  Far  off  among  the  trees  Vanno 
caught  a  glimpse  of  two  men  picnicking,  cabdrivers 
eating  their  bread  and  meat  and  drinking  the 
rough  red  wine  of  the  country,  while  their  little 
voitures  stood  a  few  yards  away,  the  horses  well  in 
shade,  their  faces  buried  in  nose-bags,  and  a  minia- 
ture wolf-like  dog  asleep  on  the  back  of  one.  As 
Vanno  and  the  priest  drew  nearer  both  men  got  up 
respectfully,  wiping  their  smiling  mouths.  They 
seemed  not  at  all  astonished  to  see  the  figures  in 
scarlet  and  white,  with  the  swinging  censer.  And 
indeed  it  was  a  common  enough  sight  in  these  woods, 
and  elsewhere,  the  brilliant  little  procession  for  the 
blessing  of  houses,  or  for  the  last  sacrament.  The 
cure  knew  both  men,  for  his  parish  extended  from 
the  old  village  of  Roquebrune  down  to  the  outskirts 
of  Mentone  on  one  side  and  to  St.  Roman  on  the 
other.  He  asked  one  after  a  new  wife,  and  of  the 
other  inquired  for  the  health  of  his  tiny  dog,  Pom- 
ponette.  Nothing  would  do  but  the  microscopic 
animal  must  be  fetched  from  her  ample  bed  on  the 


426     THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

horse's  back,  and  displayed  proudly.  Her  master, 
a  very  large  dark  man,  stuck  the  dog  into  the  breast 
of  his  coat,  whence  her  miniature  head  protruded  like 
a  peculiar  orchid. 

"C'est  un  bon  garcon,"  remarked  the  cure,  when 
the  bowings  and  politenesses  were  over,  and  they  had 
got  away.  "A  strange  world  this!  He  is  the  last 
of  one  of  the  greatest  and  oldest  families  of  Southern 
France.  For  generations  they  have  been  in  ruin, 
reduced  to  the  life  of  peasants.  Jacques  cares  not 
at  all,  and  hardly  remembers  that  he  has  in  his  veins 
blood  nobler  than  some  kings  can  boast.  What 
would  you?  It  is  as  well  for  him.  We  are  not  snobs, 
we  southerners,  Principino.  And  he  is  quite  happy, 
with  his  little  cab,  his  little  white  horse,  and  his  little 
dog.  He  will  marry  a  peasant  —  I  think  I  know 
who,  for  she  has  embroidered  a  blanket  for  Pom- 
ponette.  At  one  time  he  was  conductor  on  the 
trams;  but  he  was  triste  because  few  of  the  passengers 
said  good  morning  or  good  evening  to  him  —  and  he 
is  a  friendly  fellow.  So  he  gave  up  his  position 
on  the  trams.  One  would  not  find  that  in  the  north. 
They  have  their  faults,  these  people,  but  I  love  them." 

The  woods  of  Cap  Martin  seemed  to  be  populated 
by  the  cure's  friends.  As  he  and  Vanno  walked  away 
from  the  picnickers,  a  woman,  bareheaded,  carrying 
a  large  basket,  came  toward  them,  followed  by  a 
very  old  man  with  his  arms  full  of  bundles.  She  too 
was  of  the  peasant  class,  a  noble  creature  past  her 
youth,  with  the  face  of  a  middle-aged  Madonna,  and 
the  bearing  of  a  Roman  matron  of  distinction.  The 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     427 

old  man,  whose  profile  was  clear  as  that  of  a  king 
on  a  copper  coin,  was  deeply  lined  and  darkly 
sunburnt.  His  head,  bald  no  doubt,  was  tied  up 
in  a  crimson  handkerchief  that  gave  him  the  value 
of  a  rare  picture  by  the  hand  of  some  old  master. 
Seeing  the  cure,  the  pair  stopped  under  an  immense 
olive  tree,  a  tree  so  twisted,  so  contorted  that  it 
seemed  to  have  settled  down  to  treehood  only  af- 
ter the  wild  whirl  of  a  maenad  dance.  Now  in  its 
old  age,  which  had  been  youth  in  Caesar's  day,  it  was 
more  like  a  gray,  ruined  tower  than  an  olive  tree. 
It  had  divided  itself  into  a  few  crumbling,  leaning 
walls  with  sad  oriel  windows  and  a  broken  ornamen- 
tation of  queer  gargoyles.  Behind  the  woman  with 
the  basket  and  the  old  man  with  the  red  handker- 
chief was  the  distant  background  of  the  Prince's 
garden,  like  a  drop  curtain  at  a  theatre:  a  wall  over- 
grown with  flowering  creepers;  the  delicate  tracery 
of  wrought-iron  gates  between  tall  pillars;  bare 
branches  of  peach  and  plum  trees,  pink  as  children's 
fingers  held  close  before  the  fire,  or  the  hands  of 
Arab  girls  after  the  henna-staining ;  and  two  cypresses, 
close  together,  rising  against  the  blue  sky  with  pure 
architectural  value.  As  they  hurried  along,  the 
man  and  woman  crushed  under  foot,  without  know- 
ing what  they  did,  the  sheeny  brown  curves  of  wild 
orchids,  "Jacks  in  the  pulpit,"  that  were  like  little 
hooded  snakes  rearing  heads  in  rage,  to  guard  the 
baby  violets  sprouting  in  the  grass. 

"This  is  Filomena,  the  cook  I  myself  secured  for 
your  brother's  house,"  said  the  cure;  "the  best  cook 


428     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

and  one  of  the  best  women  on  the  coast.  See,  she 
is  carrying  our  luncheon  in  her  big  basket.  That 
shows  how  early  you  are,  Principino.  She  is  just 
back  from  the  market  at  Mentone,  where  I'll  war- 
rant she  was  delayed  by  some  nice  bit  of  gossip. 
They  love  the  marketing,  these  good  creatures." 

The  woman,  smiling  charmingly,  reached  out  a 
brown  and  shapely  hand,  rather  workworn,  which 
the  cure  shook,  and  proceeded  to  make  her 
known  to  the  Prince.  Without  hesitation  or  em- 
barrassment she  put  out  her  hand  to  him  also.  In 
his,  it  felt  hard  and  rough,  yet  glowing  with  health. 
It  was  quite  a  matter  of  course  to  Filomena  to  be 
introduced  to  the  Prince,  the  brother  of  her  new, 
exalted  master,  whom  she  had  not  until  now  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing,  although  she  had  cooked  for  him 
already  many  times.  She  remarked  on  this  fact, 
with  her  bright,  engaging  smile.  Her  manner  was 
perfectly  respectful,  yet  free  from  servility.  It 
would  not  have  occurred  to  her  that  any  one  could 
have  considered  her  liftle  conversational  outburst 
a  liberty;  and  she  proceeded  to  introduce  the  old 
man  as  her  father. 

"He  has  eighty-two  years,"  she  said,  with  a 
glance  from  the  Prince  to  the  cure,  "yet  he  thinks 
little  of  walking  down  from  our  old  home  far,  far 
away  in  the  mountains  in  Italy,  to  pay  me  a  visit. 
It  was  a  surprise  this  time,  his  coming.  I  met  him 
near  the  market,  and  profited  by  getting  him 
to  help  with  my  parcels.  Will  Messieurs  the  Prince 
and  Cure  figure  to  themselves,  he  married  my  mother 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     429 

when  their  two  ages  together  would  not  make  thirty- 
five,  and  there  in  the  mountains  they  brought  up 
eight  of  us.  But,  after  the  marriage,  they  were  still 
children.  It  was  necessary  for  the  priest  to  explain 
to  my  father  why  it  is  that  the  good  God  ordained 
marrying.  And  look  at  him  now!" 

She  laughed  gayly,  and  the  old  man,  who  could 
speak  only  a  patois  from  over  the  frontier,  cackled 
without  understanding  what  his  daughter  said.  He 
guessed  well  that  he  was  the  subject  of  the  conver- 
sation, and  jokingly  he  reproved  the  middle-aged 
Madonna  with  a  few  toothless  mutterings  more  like 
Latin  than  Italian,  more  Arabic  than  either. 

"And  now,  Messieurs,"  Filomena  finished,  "we 
must  be  hurrying  on,  or  the  dejeuner  will  be  late. 
That  would  make  me  so  angry,  I  should  poison  all 
the  fishes  if  I  were  thrown  into  the  sea!  How 
Monsieur  the  Prince  is  handsome,  and  like  my 
patron  —  yet  different,  too !  Ah,  it  does  seem  to  me, 
begging  Monsieur  the  Cure's  pardon,  that  now-a- 
days  the  good  God  is  becoming  more  experienced 
and  therefore  fashioning  finer  men.  When  He  first 
began,  He  was  but  young  and  had  no  practice,  so 
it  is  not  strange  if  He  made  mistakes." 

"You  people  of  this  country  are  very  free  with  the 
great  name  of  your  Creator,"  remarked  the  cure, 
but  not  too  sternly.  "Think,  Principino,  I  have 
heard  this  very  Filomena  saying  that  after  Christ- 
mas it  is  safe  to  sin  a  little,  for  the  enfant  Jesus  is 
so  very  small  He  takes  no  notice;  and  between  Good 
Friday  and  Easter  He  is  dead,  so  then  again  there  is 


430     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

a  chance.  It  is  well  that  I  know  you  mean  no 
sacrilege,  Filomena,  or  I  should  have  to  scold  —  and 
to-day  that  would  be  a  pity,  for  it  is  a  day  of  good 
omen  for  us  all." 

"Ah, yes,"  agreed  Filomena.  "Monsieur  the  Cure 
is  to  bless  the  house." 

"Not  only  that,  but  his  Highness  here  has  come 
with  great  news  to  tell.  He  is  going  to  marry  a 
beautiful  young  lady." 

"Then  is  the  blessing  a  double  one.  I  am  sure 
the  young  lady  must  indeed  be  beautiful  if  she  is 
worthy;  perhaps  even  as  beautiful  as  the  Princess, 
my  mistress." 

"Quite  as  beautiful,  Filomena.  But  you  are  the 
first  one  to  have  the  news.  You  must  not  go  and 
tell.  Leave  that  to  the  Prince." 

"Indeed,  Monsieur  the  Cure  need  have  no  fear. 
I've  my  dejuener  to  cook.  And  I  shall  make  some- 
thing extra  in  honour  of  the  great  occasion."  So, 
with  a  flash  of  white  teeth  and  a  bow  no  duchess 
could  have  bettered,  Filomena  went  off  about  her 
business,  followed  by  that  aged  patriarch,  her  father. 

Three  minutes  after  the  pair  had  disappeared 
through  the  porte  de  service,  Vanno  and  the  cure  ar- 
rived at  the  great  gate,  which  was  a  famous  land- 
mark at  Cap  Martin,  the  Villa  Mirasole  having  been 
built  years  ago  for  a  Russian  grand  duke.  Since 
he  had  been  killed  by  a  bomb  in  his  own  country, 
the  house  he  loved  had  passed  into  other  hands. 
Now  it  belonged  to  an  English  earl  who  had  lost  a 
fortune  at  the  Casino :  and  it  was  owing  to  his  losses 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     431 

that  the  villa  was  let  this  season  to  Prince  Delia 
Robbia. 

Much  of  the  furniture,  which  was  of  great  value, 
had  been  sold,  and  the  house  was  so  denuded  that  it 
had  practically  to  be  redecorated  and  refurnished, 
to  suit  Angelo's  ideas  of  fitness  for  his  wife;  because 
he  wished  to  keep  it  on  year  after  year.  Only  to- 
day was  everything  finished  to  his  satisfaction. 

The  villa,  whose  exterior  copied  the  Petit  Trianon, 
had  a  large  entrance  hall  of  marble  which  opened  to 
the  roof,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  gallery.  This 
hall  was  coldly  beautiful,  with  its  few  bronzes  and 
gilded  seventeenth-century  chairs,  its  tall  vases  of 
orange  blossoms  and  tea  roses,  its  faded  Persian 
rugs  and  mosaic  tables.  But  it  made  an  extra- 
ordinarily impressive  background  or  frame  for  a 
lovely  woman,  and  Marie  Delia  Robbia  was  a  lovely 
woman.  Vanno  had  seen  her  many  times  now  in 
many  different  dresses  since  New  Year's  eve,  when 
he  had  met  her  with  Angelo,  at  the  Mentone  railway 
station;  but  she  had  never  struck  him  as  being  a 
beauty,  until  to-day.  As  she  came  forward  to  greet 
her  two  visitors,  he  said  to  himself  for  the  first  time 
that  she  was  beautiful. 

She  and  Angelo  had  evidently  just  entered  from 
the  garden.  Her  right  hand  was  full  of  roses,  which 
she  hastily  changed  into  her  left,  and  she  wore  a 
softly  folding  white  dress,  with  a  great  cart-wheel 
of  a  Leghorn  hat,  drooping  in  all  the  right  places, 
and  wreathed  with  pink  roses.  She  was  a  tall  woman 
with  a  long  neck,  therefore  could  well  wear  such  a 


432     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

hat;  and  it  framed  her  head  like  an  immense  halo  of 
dull  gold.  Her  hair  was  brown  with  red  lights  in 
it,  and  her  eyes  were  of  exactly  the  same  shade,  the 
colour  of  ripe  chestnuts.  She  had  a  beautiful  short, 
rather  square  face,  of  a  craemy  paleness;  a  square, 
low  forehead,  straight  dark  brows,  drawn  very  low 
over  the  long  eyes;  a  short,  straight  nose,  and 
a  short,  curved  upper  lip,  fitting  so  charmingly 
into  the  full  squareness  of  the  under  lip  that 
her  mouth  looked  like  two  pieces  of  pink  coral 
cleverly  carved  one  upon  another.  Her  short, 
square  chin  was  deeply  cleft,  and  her  long  yet  solid- 
looking  white  throat  was  like  one  of  those  slender 
marble  columns  which  divide  the  arch  of  a  Moorish 
window.  At  first  sight,  before  she  spoke,  she  would 
be  taken  for  a  woman  of  sensuous  temperament, 
lazy,  luxury-loving,  not  talkative,  and  the  gay  smile 
which  flashed  over  her  face  at  sight  of  Vanno  and 
the  cure  seemed  somehow  unsuited  to  it,  giving 
almost  the  effect  of  electric  light  suddenly  turned 
upon  a  still  pool,  covered  with  the  waxen  weight  of 
white  water-lilies.  Her  manner,  too,  was  a  con- 
tradiction of  her  type.  It  had  a  light,  sleigh-bell 
gayety,  bringing  thoughts  of  sparkling  snows  and 
iced  sunshine.  There  was  charm  in  it,  yet  it  was 
oddly  remote  and  cold,  as  if  she,  the  woman  herself, 
had  gone  away  on  an  errand,  leaving  some  other 
woman's  spirit  in  temporary  charge  of  her  body. 
She  looked  to  be  twenty-five  or  six,  and  was  meant 
by  nature  to  be  more  dignified  than  she  chose  to  be. 
She  had  elected  to  be  light  and  girlish;  and  whatever 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     433 

she  was,  it  was  evident  that  in  her  husband's  eyes 
she  was  perfect.  He  watched  her  admiringly, 
adoringly,  as  she  welcomed  her  brother-in-law  and 
the  cure.  The  love  in  his  eyes  was  pathetic,  and 
would  have  been  tragic  if  it  had  not  been  a  happy 
love,  fully  returned,  and  culminating  in  a  perfect 
marriage. 

Angelo  was  delighted  to  see  his  brother,  and  es- 
pecially to  see  him  come  in  with  their  old  friend  the 
cure.  This  meant,  he  hoped,  that  the  good  man  had 
found  a  chance  to  talk  to  Vanno,  and  perhaps  to 
persuade  him  to  stay  at  the  Villa  Mirasole. 

The  two  young  men  shook  hands  cordially,  with 
an  affectionate  grip,  as  if  they  had  not  seen  each 
other  for  some  time,  though  it  was  really  no  more 
than  twenty-four  hours  since  they  had  parted. 

They  were  very  much  alike,  and  yet,  as  Filomena 
had  shrewdly  noticed  at  first  glance,  utterly  different. 
Angelo  was  five  years  older  than  Vanno  and  looked 
more,  because  he  wore  a  short  pointed  beard,  cut 
almost  close  to  the  long  oval  of  his  cheeks,  like  the 
beards  of  many  Italian  naval  officers.  He  was  dark, 
but  not  so  dark  as  Vanno's  face  had  been  painted 
by  the  desert;  and  whereas  Vanno  was  both  man  of 
action  and  dreamer,  Artgelo  had  the  face  of  a  poet 
whose  greatest  joy  is  in  his  dreams.  He  seemed  less 
Roman,  more  Italian  than  Vanno,  and  his  profile 
was  less  salient,  more  perfect,  being  so  purely  cut 
that  people  who  had  seen  him  seldom,  would  think 
of  him  in  profile,  as  one  thinks  always  of  a  sword. 
Vanno  would  dream,  and  strenuously  work  out  his 


434      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

dream.  Angelo  would  dream  on,  and  let  others 
work;  consequently  the  elder  was  not  so  vital,  not  so 
magnetic  as  the  younger.  He  showed  no  trace  of 
those  battles  with  himself  which  gave  Vanno's  face 
strength  and  his  eyes  fire;  yet  it  was  clear  that  Angelo 
was  a  man  of  high  ideals,  and  would  be  lost  in  losing 
them;  whereas  Vanno  would  fight  on  without  ideals, 
only  becoming  harder.  All  this  the  cure  had  known 
since  Angelo  was  a  big  boy  and  Vanno  a  little  one,  and 
he  had  learned  it  after  an  acquaintance  of  but  a  few 
days,  for  it  was  a  theory  of  his  that  character  is  like 
the  scent  of  various  plants.  It  must  so  distil  itself 
that  it  cannot  in  any  way  be  hidden  for  long;  and 
those  who  cannot  recognize  character  for  what  it  is 
are  like  people  who  have  lost  their  sense  of  smell, 
and  can  detect  no  difference  in  the  odour  of  flowers. 

Almost  at  once  the  Princess  proposed  that  the 
cure  should  begin  to  bless  the  house.  He  had 
brought  with  him  a  small  olive  branch  which  he  had 
gathered  in  the  woods;  and  with  this  he  sprinkled 
each  room  with  holy  water,  while  the  acolytes  ac- 
companied him,  one  holding  a  bowl,  the  other  sw-ing- 
ing  the  censer  which  sent  clouds  of  perfume  through 
the  house.  All  the  servants  had  been  called  together, 
even  the  Princess'  English  maid,  who  had  left  Eng- 
land for  the  first  time  to  come  to  the  Riviera.  They 
followed  the  family  from  room  to  room,  grave  and 
deeply  interested,  Filomena  in  a  large  white  apron 
exhaling  a  faint  odour  of  spices  and  good  things  of 
the  kitchen.  When  the  ceremony  was  finished  and 
not  a  room  unvisited,  Filomena  flew  back  to  duty, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     435 

and  carefully,  but  not  anxiously,  lifted  the  lid  of 
each  marmite  on  the  huge  stove.  She  had  possessed 
her  soul  in  perfect  confidence  that  the  patron  saint 
of  the  household  would  look  after  her  dishes  during 
her  absence,  and  she  would  have  been  not  only  sur- 
prised but  indignant  if  anything  had  been  burnt. 

Now  had  come  the  moment  for  Vanno  to  speak. 

The  cure  had  sent  away  the  acolytes.  It  still 
wanted  half  an  hour  of  luncheon  time,  and  the 
Princess  led  the  way  to  a  wide  window-door  •on  to  the 
loggia.  This  was  very  broad,  like  an  American  ver- 
anda, with  a  roof  of  thick,  dull  greenish  glass  which 
softened  the  glare  of  sunlight,  and  did  not  darken  the 
rooms  inside.  Roses  garlanded  the  marble  pillars, 
and  Indian  rugs  were  spread  on  the  marble  floor. 
There  were  basket  chairs  and  tables,  and  a  red 
hammock  piled  with  cushions  was  suspended  on 
bars  arranged  after  a  plan  of  Angelo's.  Marie  Delia 
Robbia  in  her  white  dress  made  a  picture  among  the 
crimson  cushions,  and  it  was  scarcely  possible  for 
her  not  to  know  that  the  three  men  who  grouped 
round  her,  found  the  picture  charming. 

^anno's  heart  was  thumping.  He  had  thought  it 
would  be  easy  and  delightful  to  tell  the  news  of  his 
engagement,  but  it  struck  him  suddenly  that  these 
two,  Angelo  and  Marie,  were  utterly  absorbed  in 
each  other.  Perhaps  they  would  not  care  as  much 
as  he  had  hoped.  Or  Angelo  might  disapprove. 
Not  that  any  disapproval  would  matter  now,  not 
even  their  father's;  but  Vanno  wanted  sympathy  and 
interest.  As  he  searched  for  the  right  word  to  begin, 


436     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

groping  for  it,  ashamed  of  his  shyness,  the  butler 
appeared  at  the  window,  a  Mentonnais-Italian  who 
prided  himself  passionately  upon  his  English.  He 
too  had  been  found  for  the  house  by  the  friendly 
offices  of  the  cure  —  an  eager,  intelligent  man  with 
glittering  eyes  and  a  laughable  tendency  to  blush- 
ing. He  had  learned  his  English  in  three  months  at 
a  Bloomsbury  boarding-house  where,  apparently, 
conversations  had  been  carried  on  entirely  in  slang. 
If  he  were  addressed  by  an  English-speaking  person 
in  any  other  language,  his  feelings  were  so  deeply 
wounded  that  he  turned  a  rich  purple. 

"Highnesses  please,"  he  announced,  "a  French 
mister  has  come  to  appear.  It  is  a  Stereo-Mon- 
daine  and  he  have  a  strong  want  to  prend  some  photo- 
graphs of  the  garden  and  peoples  which  is  done  from 
colours  already,  very  rippin'." 

Angelo  frowned  slightly.  And  when  he  frowned 
his  long  oval  face  looked  cold  and  proud,  the  face 
of  an  aristocrat  who  believed  that  the  world  was 
made  for  him  and  his  kind.  "Tell  the  man  that  we 
cannot  allow  him  to  take  photographs  here,"  he  said. 

The  butler  hesitated.  "Highness,  it  is  necessary 
that  this  man  vivre.  I  think  he  has  not  too  much 
oof.  C'est  dure,  la  publicite!" 

"I  can't  help  that,  Americo,"  Angelo  persisted. 
"You  can  offer  him  food  if  you  think  he  is  poor,  but 
we  do  not  want  him  to  take  photographs." 

Vanno  saw  that  Marie  was  looking  at  her  husband 
intently,  with  a  peculiar,  almost  frightened  expres- 
sion, as  if  she  were  studying  him  wistfully,  and  find- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     437 

ing  out   something   new  which  she  had  not  wholly 
understood. 

"Angelo,"  she  ventured,  in  a  small,  beguiling 
voice,  "perhaps  this  poor  man  has  his  pride  of  an 
artist.  You  see,  I  have  a  fellow  feeling!"  She 
smiled  pleadingly,  yet  mischievously,  and  turned 
an  explanatory  glance  on  the  cure.  "I  was  an  artist, 
and  I  should  so  love  to  know  what  is  a  Stereo-Mon- 
daine." 

Vanno  had  never  before  liked  her  so  much. 

Angelo's  face  changed  and  softened.  "If  you 
want  him,  it  is  different!"  he  returned.  "But 
you've  seemed  always  to  have  a  horror  of  snap- 
shotters." 

"He  might  take  the  garden,"  she  suggested. 

"Bring  the  fellow,  Americo,"  said  Prince  Delia 
Robbia. 

The  butler  flushed  furiously  with  joy,  "Rightho, 
my  good  Highnesses,"  he  exclaimed;  and  the 
three  who  understood  why  he  was  funny  stifled, 
laughter  till  he  was  out  of  earshot.  "His  English 
is  a  constant  delight  to  us,"  said  Marie,  instantly 
picking  up  again  her  sleigh-bell  gayety  of  manner, 
like  a  dropped,  forgotten  garment.  "It's  as  won- 
derful as  my  English  maid's  French,  which  she's 
earnestly  studying,  though  she  finds  that  a  language 
where  meat  is  feminine  and  milk  masculine  simply 
doesn't  appeal  to  her  reason.  She's  learned  to  call 
Wednesday  'Murcrmly'  and  Saturday  'Samdy.' 
When  she  goes  to  Mentone  to  buy  me  something 
at  Aux  Dames  de  France,  she  says  she's  bought  it  at 


438     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  'Ox  Daimes.'  But  she  reached  her  grandest 
height  this  morning.  I  walked  into  my  room,  to 
hear  her  groaning  at  a  window  that  looks  toward 
Monte  Carlo.  'Oh,  those  poor,  poor  men  com- 
mitting suicide!  I  can't  get  them  out  of  my  head,' 
she  moaned  when  I  asked  if  she  were  ill.  'That  day 
when  I  went  over  there  sightseeing.  It  was  too 
awful,  walking  on  the  terrace,  to  hear  those  poor 
creatures  blowing  out  their  brains  every  two  minutes 
down  under  the  Casino.  I  couldn't  stand  it, 
so  I  had  to  come  away,  but  nobody  else  seemed  to 
mind,  and  some  of  'em  was  hanging  over  the  wall 
to  see  what  was  going  on!'  I  couldn't  imagine  what 
she  meant,  for  a  minute.  Then  I  knew  it  must  be 
the  pigeon-shooters." 

Angelo  laughed.  "Of  course.  But  what  do  you 
know  of  the  pigeon-shooters,  Marie  mia?  You  have 
sternly  refused  to  let  me  take  you  to  Monte  Carlo." 

Marie  blushed,  a  sudden  bright  blush.  "Oh,  you 
have  told  me  about  them  —  how  they  shoot  under 
the  terrace.  That's  one  reason  why  I  love  staying 
here  at  Cap  Martin,  or  taking  excursions  where 
everything  is  purely  beautiful,  and  nothing  to  make 
one  sad." 

"I  don't  remember  telling  you  about  the  pigeon- 
shooting,"  Angelo  said. 

"Well,  if  you  didn't  tell  me,  somebody  else  must 
have,  mustn't  they  —  else  how  could  I  know?" 

"Highnesses,  Mister  the  Stereo-Mondaine." 

A  frail  wisp  of  a  man  was  ushered  by  the  butler 
on  to  the  loggia:  a  man  very  shabby,  very  thin,  very 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     439 

proud,  with  a  camera  out  of  proportion  to  his  size 
and  strength,  hugged  under  one  arm.  He  would 
have  been  known  as  a  Frenchman  if  found  dressed 
in  furs  at  the  North  Pole. 

He  explained  passionately  that,  had  he  been  a  mere 
photographer,  he  would  not  have  ventured  to  intrude 
upon  such  distinguished  company;  but  he  was 
unique  in  his  profession,  a  Stereo-Mondaine,  a 
traveller  who  knew  his  world  and  had  a  metier  very 
special.  He  was,  in  short,  an  artist  in  colour 
photography;  and  before  asking  the  privilege  that 
he  desired,  he  would  beg  to  show  a  sample  of  his 
most  successful  work  at  Monte  Carlo. 

"Here,  for  instance,"  he  went  on  hurriedly  in  his 
French  of  the  Midi,  "is  a  treasure  of  artisticness;  a 
marvel  of  a  portrait,  a  poem!"  And  he  displayed 
a  large  glass  plate,  neatly  bound  round  the  edges 
with  gilt  paper.  His  thin  hand,  on  which  veins  rose 
in  a  bas  relief,  held  the  plate  up  tremulously  against 
the  light.  All  bent  forward  with  a  certain  interest, 
for  none  of  the  three  had  seen  many  specimens  of 
colour  photography.  Vanno  and  the  cure  both 
gave  vent  to  slight  exclamations.  They  were  look- 
ing at  a  picture  of  Mary  Grant,  dressed  in  pale  blue, 
with  a  blue  hat.  She  was  standing  in  the  Place  of 
the  Casino  at  Monte  Carlo,  feeding  pigeons. 

It  seemed  to  Vanno  that  his  sister-in-law  also 
uttered  a  faint,  "Oh!"  But  turning  to  her,  he  saw 
that  she  was  leaning  back  among  the  cushions  of  the 
hammock,  having  ceased  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
prettily  coloured  photograph.  She  met  his  eyes. 


440     THE    GUESTS     OF    HERCULES 

''I  thought  I  heard  Americo  coining  to  call  us  to 
luncheon,"  she  said.  "  It  must  be  nearly  time.  But 
it  wasn't  he,  after  all.  Yes,  indeed,  it  is  a  charming 
photograph."  Breaking  from  English  into  French, 
she  complimented  the  Stereo-Mondaine. 

"Will  you  sell  me  that  picture?"  Vanno  asked. 

"But,  Monsieur,  it  is  my  best.  I  should  have  to 
demand  a  good  price;  for  it  could  be  produced  in  a 
journal,  and  I  would  be  well  paid.  When  the  plate 
of  a  coloured  photograph  is  gone  —  biff!  all  is  gone. 
There  is  an  end." 

"I  will  give  you  three  louis." 

The  Stereo-Mondaine  accepted  at  once,  lest  the 
Monsieur  should  change  his  mind;  and  Vanno  hav- 
ing taken  the  plate  from  him,  he  proceeded  to  pro- 
duce others. 

"Nothing  more,  thanks  —  unless  you  have  any 
of  the  same  lady." 

"No,  unfortunately,  Monsieur.  She  would  have 
posed  again,  for  she  was  a  most  sympathetic  as  well 
as  beautiful  personality.  But  the  crowd  closed 
around  us.  I  may  induce  her  to  stand  again,  how- 
ever." 

"I  hardly  think  that  is  likely  to  happen,"  Vanno 
muttered. 

"Let  him  go  into  the  garden,  and  take  half  a 
dozen  of  the  prettiest  views  —  things  we  should 
like  to  carry  away  with  us,"  the  Princess  said, 
hastily,  as  if  she  were  anxious  now  to  be  rid  of  her 
protege.  "When  they  are  ready,  he  can  send  them 
to  us  —  and  the  bill." 


THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     441 

The  Stereo-Mondaine  was  disposed  of,  while 
Angelo  took  the  glass  plate  from  Vanno,  and  looked 
at  the  picture. 

"Do  you  know  the  lady,  by  any  chance,"  he  asked 
lightly,  "or  did  you  buy  merely  as  an  admirer  of 
beauty?" 

"I  —  am  going  to  marry  her,  I  hope,"  said  Vanno. 
"We  have  been  engaged  since  last  night.  I  came 
over  early  to  tell  you." 

There  was  a  pause.  Each  one  seemed  waiting 
for  another  to  break  the  silence.  Then  the  cure 
stepped  into  the  breach. 

"I  speak  from  knowledge  when  I  say  that  the 
Principino's  fiancee  is  as  good  as  beautiful  —  a  most 
rare  lady.  He  is  to  be  congratulated." 

"Of  course  we  congratulate  him!"  Angelo  said 
cordially.  He  got  up  and  shook  hands  warmly  with 
his  brother,  like  an  Englishman :  then  he  patted  him 
affectionately  on  the  shoulder.  "Dear  boy,"  he 
added,  "you  have  given  us  a  great  surprise.  But  I 
am  sure  it  is  a  happy  one.  And  we  can  feel  for  you 
because  of  our  own  happiness,  which  is  so  new: 
though  I  think  it  always  will  be  new.  Can  we  not 
sympathize,  Marie  mia?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Princess.  "Yes,  of  course.  I 
congratulate  you."  There  was  a  different  quality 
in  her  voice.  It  did  not  ring  quite  true;  and  Vanno 
was  disappointed.  He  thought  that  to  please 
Angelo  and  him  she  was  affecting  more  interest  than 
she  was  able  to  feel. 


442      THE     GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Angelo  still  had  the  coloured  photograph  on  the 
glass  plate,  but  now  he  handed  it  to  his  wife.  "  What 
a  lovely  girl!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't  believe  that 
in  your  artist  days,  dearest,  you  ever  had  a  prettier 
model." 

"No,  never,"  said  Marie.  She  took  the  plate  that 
Angelo  held  out,  and  looked  at  it  with  a  slight 
quivering  of  the  eyelids  as  if  the  sun,  which  was  very 
bright,  shone  too  strongly.  Then,  quickly,  she 
sprang  up,  leaving  the  photograph  in  the  hammock. 
"An  awfully  pretty  girl,"  she  went  on.  "Vanno 
must  tell  us  all  about  her,  at  luncheon.  Here  comes 
Americo  to  announce  it." 

She  hurried  to  the  door,  smiling  at  the  three  men 
over  her  shoulder.  The  sun  had  given  her  a  bright 
colour.  Even  her  ears  were  rose-pink.  Vanno,  in 
following,  retrieved  the  glass  plate  from  among  the 
cushions.  He  was  not  sure  whether  or  no  his  an- 
nouncement had  been  a  success,  but  the  method  of 
it  seemed  to  have  been  thrust  on  him  by  Fate. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  they  were  seated  at  the 
table  Marie  chatted  of  other  things,  talking  very  fast 
about  a  Blinis  au  caviar  for  which  she  had  given 
Filomena  the  recipe.  "I  tasted  it  first  in  Russia," 
she  remarked,  immediately  adding  "when  I  was 
very  young."  Then  abruptly  she  jumped  back  to 
the  subject  of  Vanno's  great  news.  "Tell  us  about 
her,"  she  commanded,  giving  her  brother-in-law  a 
charming  smile.  But  as  he  began,  rather  jerkily, 
to  supply  the  information  asked  for,  the  Princess 
looked  down  at  her  plate,  eating  slowly  and  daintily, 


as  a  child  eats  when  it  wishes  to  make  some 
delicious  food  last  as  long  as  possible.  Not  once 
did  she  raise  her  thick,  straight  eyelashes,  as  Vanno 
said  that  the  girl  was  a  Miss  Grant,  now  staying 
with  the  wife  of  the  chaplain  at  Monte  Carlo.  Her 
first  question  seemed  to  have  satisfied  the  Princess' 
curiosity,  for  all  those  that  followed  were  asked  by 
her  husband. 

"Miss  Grant!"  he  echoed,  deeply  interested  in  his 
brother's  love  affair,  though  still  puzzled  by  its 
suddenness,  and  a  little  uneasy.  He  felt  that  it 
would  not  be  well  for  both  the  Duke's  sons  to  marry 
women  unknown  socially;  and  almost  unconsciously 
he  was  influenced  by  a  selfish  consideration.  Vanno 
was  expected  to  make  his,  Angelo's,  peace  with  the 
father,  who  worshipped  the  younger,  tolerated  the 
elder,  of  his  sons.  It  was  Vanno's  duty  to  .describe 
Marie  in  glowing  terms,  to  induce  the  Duke  to  feel 
that  despite  her  social  unimportance  she  was  a  pearl 
among  women.  But  if  Vanno  had  his  own  peace 
to  make,  his  own  pearl  to  praise,  other  interests 
might  suffer.  "Miss  Grant!  It  is  odd,  isn't  it, 
that  we  should  choose  girls  of  names  so  much  alike? 
Marie  Gaunt,  and  —  but  what  is  your  Miss  Grant's 
Christian  name?" 

Vanno  had  to  confess  ignorance;  and  this  forced 
him  to  explain  that  he  had  known  Miss  Grant  for  a 
very  short  time.  "But  I  felt  from  the  beginning 
that  I'd  known  her  always,"  he  added  bravely.  "It 
was  —  love  at  first  sight.  You  —  I  think  you'll 
understand  when  you  see  her.  The  cure  sees.  And 


444      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

that's  what  I  want  to  ask.  Will  you  both  go  to  call 
upon  her  with  me  —  and  be  kind?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Angelo.  "It  can't  be  too  soon. 
When  shall  we  go?" 

"Well,"  said  Vanno,  almost  shamefacedly,  "I 
thought  if  you  could  manage  it  this  afternoon  - 

Angelo  laughed  a  pleasant  but  teasing  laugh.  "  He 
doesn't  want  any  grass  to  grow  between  Cap  Martin 
and  Monte  Carlo  before  our  motor-car  has  rushed 
us  to  his  lady's  bower.  We  can  go  this  afternoon, 
I'm  sure,  can't  we,  Marie?" 

The  eyes  of  the  three  men  were  turned  upon  the 
Princess,  who  was  still  delicately  eating  her  Blinis 
au  caviar.,  though  the  others  had  finished.  For  an 
instant  she  did  not  answer.  Then  she  looked  up 
suddenly,  first  at  Angelo,  her  glance  travelling  to 
Vanno  almost  pleadingly  before  she  spoke.  "I 
should  love  to  go,"  she  said  to  him,  emphatically. 
"Only,  I  do  think  it  would  be  so  much  more  proper 
and  better  in  every  way  for  me  to  call  on  —  on  Miss 
Grant  first  alone,  without  either  of  you.  Do  let 
me.  It  will  be  far  more  of  a  compliment,  I  assure 
you.  And  she  will  prefer  it." 

"I  don't  quite  see  that,"  observed  Angelo. 

"Because  you  are  a  man!  Why,  she  can  talk  to 
me,  and  tell  me  little  confidential  things  that  she  will 
love  telling,  and  couldn't  so  much  as  mention  before 
you.  Vanno  says  she  has  no  relatives  with  her,  but 
is  staying  with  friends;  and  I  will  try  to  make  her 
feel  as  if  I  were  a  sister." 

"Marie,  you  are  good!"  exclaimed  Vanno,  his 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     445 

eyes  warm  with,  gratitude.  After  all,  his  sister-in- 
law  was  not  disapproving,  as  he  had  begun  to  fear. 
"She's  perfectly  right,  Angelo.  It  will  be  splendid 
of  her  to  go  alone." 

"I  begin  to  see  the  point  of  view,"  said  Angelo. 
"I  might  have  known.  She's  always  right." 

Marie  smiled  at  him  sweetly  and  softly;  and  as  her 
husband's  eyes  met  hers  a  beautiful  look  of  love 
and  understanding  flashed  from  the  hidden  soul  of 
the  woman  to  the  soul  of  the  man.  Vanno  saw  it, 
and  thrilled.  So  would  it  be  with  him  and  the  girl 
he  loved. 


XXVII 

THE  motor  was  ordered  for  the  Princess  at  a 
quarter  to  three.  She  wished  to  arrive  early  at 
Mrs.  Winter's,  in  order  to  have  her  chat  with  Miss 
Grant  before  tea  time.  Her  idea  was  to  ask  only 
for  the  guest,  not  for  the  hostess,  and  be  ready  to 
leave  before  the  hour  when  extraneous  and  irrele- 
vant guests  might  be  expected  to  invade  the  chap- 
lain's drawing-room.  There  was,  it  appeared,  a 
telephone  in  the  apartment-house  where  the  Winters 
lived,  and  Vanno,  getting  into  communication  with 
Mary  after  numerous  difficulties,  begged  her  to  be 
in,  and  if  possible  alone,  for  a  visit  from  his  sister-in- 
law.  It  was  arranged  that  the  cure,  who  had  never 
been  in  a  motor-car,  should  be  dropped  at  the  foot 
of  a  convenient  short  cut  to  Roquebrune,  and  Angelo 
and  Vanno  would  go  on  with  Marie  to  Monte  Carlo. 
Having  left  her  at  the  Winters'  door,  Angelo  meant 
to  walk  with  Vanno  to  his  hotel,  expecting  later  to 
pick  up  his  wife  again.  When  the  cure  had  bidden 
them  goodbye,  however,  Marie  proposed  a  modi- 
fication of  the  plan. 

"Poor  Angelo  has  been  pining  for  Monte  Carlo, 
I'm  sure,"  she  said,  laughing,  her  bright  eyes  and 
unusually  pink  cheeks  alluring  and  mysterious,  under 
the  thickly  patterned  black  veil  she  had  put  on  with 

446 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     447 

a  large  black  velvet  hat.  "He's  concealed  his 
feelings  well,  I  must  say,  out  of  compliment  to  me, 
because  I  was  so  good  about  the  villa.  At  first  I 
didn't  want  to  have  a  house  at  Cap  Martin.  From 
all  I'd  heard,  I  thought  the  Riviera  must  be  so 
sophisticated  —  and  somehow  I've  always  detested 
the  idea  of  Monte  Carlo.  But  you  know,  Vanno, 
how  Angelo  fell  in  love  with  the  Villa  Mirasole 
when  he  visited  the  Grand  Duke  years  ago.  He 
must  have  written  you  how  he  set  his  heart,  even 
then,  on  having  it  for  his  honeymoon  if  he  married. 
I  gave  up  my  objections  provided  he  would  promise 
that  I  needn't  go  to  Monte  Carlo,  and  that  he 
wouldn't  be  always  running  over  there  himself. 
Now,  I'm  glad,  for  I  love  the  villa.  And  you  see, 
I'm  on  the  way  to  Monte  Carlo  of  my  own  accord ! 
The  next  thing  is  to  tell  Angelo  he  may  play  about 
there  as  long  as  he  likes.  I  shall  keep  the  motor 
waiting  while  I'm  at  Miss  Grant's,  and  go  back  in 
it  alone  whenever  I  feel  inclined.  You  needn't 
come  to  fetch  me.  I'd  rather  not." 

Both  men  looked  disappointed:  Vanno  because 
he  wanted  to  hear  Marie's  impressions  of  his  adored 
one  without  delay,  confident  that  they  would  be  fav- 
ourable; Angelo,  because  since  their  marriage  he  and 
his  wife  had  not  been  parted  for  a  single  hour.  This 
was  the  first  sign  Marie  had  shown  of  wishing  to 
assert  independence. 

"Are  you  sure  you're  not  saying  this  for  my  sake?  " 
Angelo  inquired  anxiously.  "I  don't  want  to  hang 
about  Monte  Carlo.  I " 


448     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"It  will  do  you  good  to  have  a  little  change,"  she 
said.  Then  she  flashed  him  a  meaning,  intimate 
glance  which  he  thought  that  he  interpreted,  and 
therefore  raised  no  more  objections.  Her  eyes  seemed 
to  say:  "I  have  a  reason.  I'll  explain  to  you  when 
we're  alone.  It  has  something  to  do  with  your 
brother." 

"Come  and  dine  with  us  if  you  care  to,  Vanno," 
she  went  on.  "Or  if  you  have  an  engagement  with 
Miss  Grant,  spin  over  in  a  taxi  for  coffee  and  a  few 
minutes'  chat  afterward.  That  is,  if  you'd  like  to 
hear  how  beautiful  and  altogether  perfect  I  think 
she  is  —  and  make  some  plan  about  bringing  her  to 
Cap  Martin  —  sooner  or  later." 

Vanno  explained  that  he  was  to  dine  at  the 
Winters,  but  would  accept  for  the  "chat,"  with 
great  pleasure.  Dinner  was  early  at  the  chaplain's. 
He  would  leave  at  eight-thirty,  and  then  go  back 
again  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  bid  Miss  Grant 
farewell. 

He  leaned  suddenly  from  the  window  just  in  time 
to  direct  his  brother's  chauffeur,  and  the  car  pulled 
up  before  the  ugly  square  building  which  Rose  Win- 
ter called  a  "quadrupedifice."  Angelo  sprang  out, 
helping  Marie  to  alight  with  as  much  care  and 
tenderness  as  if  she  might  break  with  a  rough  touch. 
Next  came  the  parting  at  the  door;  and  Vanno  smiled 
to  see  how  Marie  lingered  with  her  hand  in  her 
husband's.  They  had  as  many  last  words  to  say 
to  each  other  as  if  Angelo  were  to  be  absent  for 
three  days,  although  he  was  assuring  her  —  with 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     449 

needless  insistence  —  that  even  if  he  looked  into 
the  Casino  he  would  certainly  be  back  long  before 
dinner. 

The  two  men  watched  the  Princess  begin  to 
mount  the  stairs,  before  they  turned  away.  Then, 
leaving  the  car  at  the  door  as  Marie  had  wished,  they 
walked  off  together  in  the  direction  of  the  Hotel  de 
Paris. 

"Idina  Bland  called  yesterday  on  Marie,"  Angelo 
said  abruptly,  with  a  slight  suggestion  of  constraint 
in  his  voice.  "It  was  —  rather  a  surprise  to  me.  I 
supposed  she  was  in  America." 

"Diavolo!     She  is  still  here,  then?" 

"Still?     Did  you  know  she  was  on  the  Riviera?" 

"I  knew  she  came  —  weeks  ago.     She  went  up  to 
Roquebrune  to  see  the  cure.     She'd  heard  he  was 
an  old  friend  of  ours  —  and  she  inquired  for  you  - 
wouldn't  say  who  she  was.     That  was  before  I  ar- 
rived." 

"How  do  you  know  it  was  Idina,  if  she  didn't 
give  her  name?" 

"The  cure's  description.  There  was  no  mistak- 
ing it.  He  said  at  a  little  distance  her  eyes  looked 
white,  like  a  statue's." 

"Ah  —  that  was  good!  They  are  like  that. 
Curious  eyes.  Curious  woman.  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  before  about  her  visit  to  the  cure?" 

"I  meant  to.  But  you  put  off  coming  so  long. 
And  I  —  well,  I  confess  I  forgot." 

"You're  excusable  in  the  circumstances,  my  dear 
boy.  After  all,  it's  of  no  importance." 


450     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"No.  And  then,  as  I  never  saw  her  anywhere 
about,  there  was  reason  to  suppose  she'd  left.  If 
I  thought  of  her  at  all,  I  thought  she'd  gone." 

"It  seems  she's  been  staying  for  weeks  at  the 
Annonciata  —  I  fancy  she  called  it  —  a  hotel  on  a 
little  mountain  close  to  Mentone.  She  says  the  air's 
very  fine  —  and  she's  been  ordered  south  by  an 
American  doctor.  Had  pneumonia  in  the  autumn." 

"What  about  the  distant  cousin  over  there  who 
was  going  to  leave  her  money?" 

"He's  dead,  and  she's  got  the  money.  She  is 
wearing  a  kind  of  second  mourning  —  gray  and 
black.  It  made  her  look  rather  hard,  I  thought." 

"She  always  did  look  hard,  except " 

"Except?     What's  the  rest,  Vanno?" 

"I  was  going  to  say,  'Except  for  you.": 

"I  —  er  —  she  seems  to  have  got  over  that  non- 
sense now.  I  must  confess  it  gave  me  rather  a  start 
when  I  came  in  from  a  smoke  in  the  garden  yester- 
day, and  found  her  sitting  with  Marie  in  the  yellow 
salon.  For  a  minute  I  was  afraid  —  well,  I  hardly 
know  of  what." 

"Dio!  You  didn't  think  she'd  try  to  do  Marie 
a  mischief?" 

"No.  Hardly  that.  But  it  passed  through  my 
mind  that  she  might  try  to  make  trouble  between  us. 
Not  that  she  could." 

"Did  you  —  don't  answer  unless  you  care  to — 
ever  tell  Marie  about  Idina?" 

"Not  till  yesterday,  after  her  call.  It  never 
occurred  to  me.  Idina  had  gone  out  of  my  life 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     451 

before  Marie  came  into  it,  and  she  was  never  any- 
thing to  me." 

"I  know.  It  was  the  other  way  round.  But  — 
you  were  good  to  her,  and  cousinly,  and  I  suppose 
she  misunderstood  a  little." 

"I  never  realized  that,  until  she  was  going  to 
America,  and  she  hinted  —  er  —  that  she  wouldn't 
care  about  getting  the  money  if  it  weren't  for  — 
well,  you  know.  Or  you  can  guess." 

"She  thought  father  would  approve  of  a  mar- 
riage between  you  if  she  became  an  heiress." 

"Partly  that,  and  partly  she  seemed  to  believe  that 
I'd  have  spoken  to  her  of  love  if  she  hadn't  been  a 
kind  of  dependent  on  my  father.  I  tried  to  make 
her  understand  without  putting  it  into  brutal  words, 
that  I  did  love  her  of  course,  but  only  as  a  cousin. 
It's  the  devil  having  to  tell  a  woman  you  don't  want 
her!  I'm  not  sure  she  did  entirely  understand,  for 
she  wrote  me  a  letter  afterward  —  it  followed  me  to 
Dresden,  and  came  the  day  after  Marie  had  promised 
to  be  my  wife.  I  didn't  answer.  I  thought  when 
Idina  heard  of  my  marriage  she'd  see  why  I  hadn't 
replied,  and  why  it  was  kinder  not  to  write.  I  knew 
she  would  hear  through  father,  for  she  corresponds 
with  him.  He  is  very  punctilious  about  answering 
letters;  and  suspecting  nothing  he  would  tell  the 
news.  When  I  found  her  with  Marie  yesterday  - 
but  I  see  now  I  was  a  fool.  These  melodramatic 
things  don't  happen.  And  after  all,  Idina's  a  cold 
woman." 

"I  wonder?" 


452     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Well,  anyhow,  she  was  very  civil  to  me  and 
pleasant  to  Marie,  whom  I  questioned  afterward 
about  what  Idina  had  said  before  I  came  in.  It 
seems  there  was  nothing  —  but  I  explained  to  my 
wife  that  there'd  been  a  boy  and  girl  friendship 
between  Idina  and  me,  a  sort  of  cousinly  half  flirta- 
tion, nothing  more.  And  really  there  was  nothing 
more." 

"Certainly  not,"  Vanno  agreed,  emphatically. 
"But  it's  just  as  well  to  tell  Marie,  so  that  in  case 
Idina  should  do  something  • —  one  of  those  things 
women  call  ' catty'  —  she'd  be  prepared." 

"Yes,  it  is  better  to  have  no  concealments,"  said 
Angelo.  "  Luckily  I  have  no  other  complications 
in  my  past.  Nothing  to  dread.  And  Marie  is  an 
angel.  She  would  forgive  me  anything,  I  believe,  if 
there  were  anything  I  had  to  ask  her  to  forgive." 

"As  you  would  her,"  Vanno  added,  impulsively. 

"With  her,  there  could  be  nothing  to  forgive," 
Angelo  replied,  stiffening.  "She  is  an  angel.  And 
now,  enough  of  my  affairs.  Let  us  talk  about 
yours." 


xxvm 

WHEN  her  husband  and  brother-in-law  had  left 
her,  Princess  Delia  Robbia  began  to  go  upstairs 
very  slowly.  She  mounted  with  her  hand  on  the 
balusters,  as  if  she  were  weak  or  tired.  At  last, 
when  she  had  reached  the  etage  of  the  Winters'  flat, 
she  paused,  and  rested  for  several  minutes  before 
the  door  which  displayed  the  chaplain's  card.  She 
was  breathing  rather  fast,  which  was  but  natural 
perhaps,  as  she  had  ascended  three  flights  of  stairs, 
was  wearing  an  immensely  long  and  wide  ermine 
stole,  and  carrying  a  huge  muff  to  match.  Before 
she  touched  the  electric  bell  she  pulled  her  large  hat 
forward  a  little  over  her  face,  and  adjusted  the  thick 
veil,  which  had  a  pattern  like  a  spider's  web.  Then 
she  opened  a  gold  vanity  box  suspended  from  her 
wrist  by  a  chain,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  small 
mirror  it  contained.  Her  face  was  so  shadowed  by  the 
hat  and  disguised  by  the  veil  that  at  a  little  distance 
it  might  be  difficult  for  any  one  not  very  familiar 
with  her  features  and  figure  to  recognize  her  at  all. 

When  she  had  shut  the  vanity  box  with  a  sharp 
snap,  she  pressed  the  electric  bell,  and  waited  with 
her  head  bowed.  She  kept  it  bowed  when  the 
beautiful  Storm-cloud  opened  the  door,  and  still 
while  she  inquired  in  French  for  Miss  Grant. 

453 


454     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

There  was  no  one  in  the  pretty  American-looking 
drawing-room  when  Nathalie  ushered  her  in.  Throw- 
ing a  quick  glance  around,  the  Princess  chose  a 
chair  so  placed  that  her  back  was  turned  not  only 
to  the  window  but  to  a  table  with  an  electric  lamp 
on  it,  which  would  in  all  probability  soon  be  lighted. 
Hardly  was  she  seated,  when  the  door  was  thrown 
open  quickly,  and  Mary  came  in. 

Princess  Delia  Robbia  rose,  her  left  arm  thrust 
into  her  big  ermine  muff,  so  that  her  right  hand  might 
be  free  if  it  must  be  given  in  greeting.  But  she  did 
not  step  forward  as  if  eager  to  greet  Vanno's  fiancee. 

"  Princess  Delia  Robbia?  "  Mary  said,  rather  shyly. 
"How  good  of  you  to  come  to  see  me." 

She  put  out  her  hand  and  took  that  of  the  Prin- 
cess. This  brought  them  close  together,  and  as 
they  were  of  nearly  the  same  height,  they  looked 
into  each  other's  faces,  though  the  Princess  still  kept 
her  head  slightly  bent,  her  eyes  and  forehead  in 
shadow. 

"Marie  Grant!" 

Mary  cried  out  the  name  sharply. 

"Hush!"  said  the  Princess,  with  a  convulsive 
pressure  on  the  other's  hand.  "For  God's  sake! 
Don't  ruin  me!" 

Mary,  with  the  last  rays  of  afternoon  light  full  on 
her  face,  turned  pale  to  the  lips,  and  the  pupils  of 
her  eyes  seemed  to  dilate. 

"Oh,  Marie,  darling!"  she  faltered.     "I  wouldn't 
ruin  you  for  the  world  —  not  to  save  my  life.     I  - 
it  was  only  that  I  was  so  surprised.     I'm  glad  - 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     455 

very  glad  to  see  you.  I've  dreamed  of  you  a  thou- 
sand times  —  and  just  before  coming  to  Monte 
Carlo,  too.  I  expected  some  one  else  when  I  came 
into  this  room,  a  Princess  Delia  Robbia " 

"I  am  Princess  Delia  Robbia,"  Marie  said  in  a 
veiled,  dead  voice. 

"You  —  but  I  don't  understand 

"I'll  tell  you.  I  want  to  tell  you,"  the  Princess 
broke  in  quickly,  the  words  almost  jumbled  together 
in  her  haste.  "  We  must  talk  before  any  one  comes. 
Will  any  one  come?" 

"No,  no,"  Marie  soothed  her.  "Mrs.  Winter  is 
out.  She  won't  be  back  till  four.  It's  only  a  little 
after  three." 

The  Princess  thrust  her  arm  through  her  muff  so 
that  she  could  take  both  Mary's  hands.  She  pressed 
them  tightly,  her  fingers  jerking  as  if  by  mechanism. 
"I've  come  —  I've  got  to  throw  myself  on  your 
mercy,"  she  said. 

"Don't,"  Mary  implored,  "use  such  words  to  me. 
Oh,  Marie,  how  strange  —  how  strange  everything  is ! 
The  night  before  I  left  the  convent,  Peter  —  dear 
Peter,  who  loves  you  too,  always  —  said  that  per- 
haps my  dreams  meant  that  you  thought  of  me 
sometimes  —  that  we  might  meet.  Then  I  didn't 
expect  to  come  here.  She  told  me  not  to  come. 
But  she  said,  'Anything  can  happen  at  Monte 
Carlo." 

"Anything  can  happen  anywhere,"  the  Princess 
answered  in  a  muffled  voice.  "It  is  a  terrible  world. 
It's  been  a  terrible  world  for  me  since  I  saw  you. 


456     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

And  now  —  just  when  it's  turned  into  heaven,  you 
can  send  me  down  to  hell." 

"It  kills  me  to  hear  you  talk  so,"  Mary  said,  tears 
rising  in  her  eyes,  and  falling  slowly.  "//  Why, 
Marie  dearest,  didn't  you  just  hear  me  say  I'd  rather 
die  .than  hurt  you?  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"Do  you  understand  that  I'm  married  to  the 
brother  of  the  man  you're  engaged  to  marry?" 

"Why  —  yes.  You  told  me  that  you  —  that 
you're  the  Princess  Delia  Robbia." 

"Well,  my  husband  doesrCt  know.  Nobody  in  my 
life  now,  knows  anything  about  —  the  part  that 
came  before.  Nobody  must  know.  I'd  kill  my- 
self rather  than  have  Angelo  find  out,  or  even  sus- 
pect. He  thinks  I '  She  stopped,  and  choked. 

"He  thinks  I  am "  The  sob  would  come.  She 

broke  down,  crying  bitterly.  "Oh,  Mary,  I  love 
him  so.  I  worship  him.  He  thinks  I'm  everything 
sweet  and  good  and  innocent,  that  I'd  give  my  soul 
to  be,  for  his  sake.  And  now  you've  come " 

"You  don't  think  I'll  tell!" 

"Not  if  you  say  you  won't.  But  I  didn't  know. 
You  were  always  so  good.  You  might  have  thought 
it  your  duty.  Mary  —  you  won't  tell  Vanno?  I 
couldn't  bear  it!" 

"I  won't  tell  Vanno,  or  any  one  at  all." 

"You're  sure  —  sure  you  won't  let  anything  drop, 
by  mistake?" 

"Explain  to  me  exactly  what  you  want  me  to  do," 
Mary  said,  "and  I'll  do  it.  Are  we  to  have  been 
strangers  to  each  other  till  to-day  —  is  that  it?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     457 

"Yes,  that's  the  best  thing:  less  complicated.  It 
will  save  telling  lies." 

"I  should  hate  to  tell  lies,"  said  Mary. 

"You  needn't.  Oh,  the  hundreds  and  thousands 
I've  had  to  tell!  The  dreary,  uphill  work!  But 
now  I'm  on  the  hill,  the  beautiful  hill  in  the  sunshine 
where  my  husband  lives.  And  I'm  going  to  stay 
there  if  I  have  to  wade  in  lies." 

Mary  shivered  a  little  at  the  words  and  the  look 
in  Marie's  eyes  as  they  stared  behind  the  spider  web 
veil.  But  she  tried  not  to  show  that  she  was  shocked. 
She  felt  she  would  give  her  hand  to  be  cut  off  rather 
than  hurt  this  miserable  girl  who  had  sinned  and 
suffered,  and  now  stood  desperately  at  bay. 

"Try  to  be  happy;  try  to  trust  me,"  she  said. 
"We  used  to  be  such  friends." 

"That  was  my  only  hope  when  I  found  that  Vanno 
was  engaged  to  you,  and  that  we  should  have  to 
meet,"  Marie  confessed.  "I  hated  to  come,  but  I 
had  to  brave  it  out.  And  I  thought  it  just  possible 
you  mightn't  recognize  me,  after  all  these  years." 
She  pushed  up  her  veil  nervously.  "Haven't  I 
changed?  Do  say  I've  changed !" 

"Your  hair  looks  lighter.  There's  more  red  in  it, 
surely,"  Mary  reflected  aloud.  "It  used  to  be  a 
dark  brown.  Now  it's  almost  auburn." 

"I  bleach  it.  I  began  to  do  that  when  I  first 
thought  of  trying  to  —  get  back  to  things.  I 
wanted  to  make  myself  different,  so  that  if  any  of 
the  people  who  saw  me  when  I  —  was  down,  came 
across  me  again,  they  mightn't  be  sure  it  was  I  — 


458     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

they  might  think  it  was  just  a  resemblance  to  — 
another  woman.  I  took  the  name  of  Gaunt  instead 
of  Grant,  because  it  was  so  nearly  the  same,  it  might 
seem  to  have  been  a  very  simple  mistake,  if  any 
complication  came.  And  I  went  to  live  far  away 
from  every  one  I'd  ever  known.  I  chose  Dresden. 
I  can  hardly  tell  why,  except  that  I'd  never  been 
there,  and  I  wanted  to  paint.  I  stayed  at  first  in  a 
pension  kept  by  an  artist's  wife.  The  artist  helped 
me,  and  I  did  very  well  with  my  work.  That's  what 
saved  me.  If  I  hadn't  had  that  talent,  there  would 
have  been  only  one  of  two  things  for  me  to  do:  kill 
myself,  or  —  worse." 

"Let's  not  think  of  it,  since  it's  all  over,"  said 
Mary,  gently.  She  took  Marie  by  the  hand  again, 
and  made  her  sit  down  on  Rose  Winter's  chintz 
covered  sofa.  Then  she  sat  beside  her  friend  and 
almost  timidly  slid  an  arm  round  her  waist. 

"All  over!"  the  Princess  echoed,  in  a  voice  so 
weary  and  old,  so  unlike  the  bright  sleigh-bell 
gayety  Angelo  knew,  that  he  would  hardly  have 
recognized  his  wife.  "That's  the  horrible  part  — 
that's  the  punishment:  never  to  know  whether  it's 
'all  over,'  or  whether  at  any  minute,  just  as  one 
begins  to  dare  feel  a  little  happy  and  safe,  one  isn't 
going  to  be  found  out.  For  instance,  when  my 
husband  wanted  a  villa  at  Cap  Martin.  Once, 
before  I  knew  we  would  be  coming  here,  I  told  him 
that  I'd  never  been  to  the  Riviera.  It  was  necessary 
to  tell  him  that.  But,  Mary,  I  had  been.  It  makes 
me  sick  when  I  think  what  a  short  time  ago  it  was. 


THE     GUESTS     OF     HERCULES      451) 

I  came  to  Monte  Carlo  with  —  him,  and  we  stopped 
for  weeks  at  a  big  hotel.  Every  day  and  all  day  we 
were  in  the  Casino.  Afterward  we  went  to  Russia, 
and  it  was  in  Russia  he  left  me  —  in  St.  Petersburg. 
Often  I  go  back  there  in  dreams,  and  to  Monte  Carlo 
too.  I  suppose  you  knew  about  me,  always  —  you 
and  — Peter?" 

"Neither  of  us  knew  much.  But  I  know  all  I 
want  to  know  —  unless  you  feel  there's  anything  it 
would  do  you  good  to  tell." 

"It  does  me  a  little  good  to  be  able  to  speak  out 
to  some  one  for  the  first  time  in  years,  now  the  worst 
is  over,  and  I  haven't  to  be  afraid  of  you.  If  you 
could  dream  what  I  went  through  to-day!  Mary, 
are  you  sure  —  sure  of  yourself  —  that  you  won't 
give  me  away?" 

"Very,  very  sure,"  Mary  answered  steadily.  "I 
think  it  would  have  been  better  if  you'd  told  the 
Prince  before  you  married  him,  and  then  you'd  have 
nothing  to  fear  now,  but " 

"He  wouldn't  have  married  me.  One  of  my  great 
attractions  in  his  eyes  was  —  what  I  have  not.  You 
don't  know  that  family  yet,  Mary.  I  think  the 
brothers  are  a  good  deal  alike  in  some  ways,  though 
Angelo  is  more  of  a  saint  than  Vanno.  They  adore 
purity  in  women.  I  think  they  both  have  a  sort  of 
pitying  horror  for  women  who  aren't  —  innocent." 

Mary  was  silent.  She  had  reason  to  believe  that 
the  Princess  was  right. 

"And  I  couldn't  give  him  up,"  Marie  went  on. 
"It  was  too  much  even  for  God  to  expect.  It  was 


460     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

such  a  beautiful  romance  —  the  first  true  romance 
in  my  life.  It  seemed  to  be  recreating  me.  I  almost 
felt  as  if  his  love  would  make  me  worthy  if  I  could 
only  take  and  keep  it.  It  was  a  dreadful  risk,  but  — 
I  dared  it,  and  I'd  do  it  again,  if  I  had  it  to  do,  even 
if  I  paid  by  losing  my  soul.  I  used  to  think  at  first 
that  perhaps  when  we'd  been  married  a  long  time, 
and  I  was  sure  of  his  love,  I  might  tell  him  —  a 
little,  not  everything.  But  now  I  know  that  I 
never,  never  can.  It  would  be  a  thousand  times 
worse  than  before,  if  he  found  out.  It  would  mean 
my  death,  that's  all.  I  couldn't  look  into  his  eyes, 
his  dear,  beautiful  eyes  that  adore  me,  that  I  adore. 
You  haven't  seen  him  yet.  But  you  know  Vanno's 
eyes,  and  what  it  would  be  to  see  them  turn  cold 
after  they  have  been  —  stars  of  love.  That  ex- 
presses them." 

"Yes,  that  expresses  them,"  Mary  almost  whis- 
pered. She  closed  her  eyelids  for  an  instant  and 
Vanno's  eyes  looked  into  hers,  as  they  had  looked 
in  the  cure's  garden,  after  the  first  kiss.  Nothing 
that  Marie  could  have  said  would  have  made 
her  understand  as  clearly.  If  she  were  as  Marie 
was,  she  felt  that  she  could  not  tell  Van  no,  now  that 
his  eyes  had  worshipped  her.  She  would  not  marry 
him  and  not  tell,  if  there  were  things  that  ought  to 
be  told;  but  she  would  go  away,  far  away,  where  the 
dear  eyes  might  never  look  at  her  again. 

"You  don't  know  yet  what  it  is  to  love,"  Marie 
went  on;  and  Mary  answered,  as  if  she  were  speak- 
ing to  herself,  "I  almost  think  I  do  know  —  now." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     461 

"If  you  do,  you  can  understand  me." 

"I  am  beginning  to  understand,"  Mary  said. 

"You  swear  that  you've  said  nothing  to  Vanno, 
to  make  him  suspect?  When  he  told  you  about 
his  brother  and  sister-in-law,  did  he  mention  my 
name  as  —  as  a  girl?" 

"He  said  your  name  was  Marie  Gaunt " 

"Oh!     And  then?" 

"I  believe  I  talked  about  having  a  friend  once 
with  a  name  rather  like  yours,  but  not  quite. 
That's  all,  truly.  I  had  no  idea  that  Marie 
Gaunt  - 

"Did  you  speak  about  the  convent?" 

"I  told  him  and  the  cure  that  I'd  been  brought  up 
at  a  convent  school,  but  I  didn't  say  where  it  was, 
or  anything  about  it  at  all.  There  was  no  time  or 
chance  then.  I  meant  to  tell  Vanno  lots  of  things 
when  we  were  alone;  but  there  was  only  our  walk 
down  the  mountain  together,  and  we  had  so  much  to 
say  to  each  other  about  the  present  and  future,  I 
forgot  about  the  past,  and  I  think  he  did,  too.  The 
only  thing  I've  had  time  to  say  about  myself  is  that 
I've  no  relatives  except  a  very  disagreeable  aunt 
and  cousin.  There  was  nothing,  not  a  word,  that 
you  need  be  afraid  of." 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  Marie,  with  a  sigh  as 
of  one  who  wakes  to  consciousness  free  of  pain,  after 
an  operation  which  might  have  opened  the  door  of 
death.  "And  you'll  swear  to  me  that  never  will 
you  tell  Angelo,  or  Vanno,  or  any  one  else  at  all, 
that  you'll  not  even  confess  to  a  priest  that  I  was 


462     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Marie  Grant,  a  girl  you  knew  at  the  convent  of  St. 

Ursula-of-the-Lake." 

"I'll  swear  it,  if  that  will  make  you  happier." 
"It  will  —  it  does.     Swear  that  nothing  can  tempt 

you  to  break  your  word." 

"Nothing  shall  tempt  me  to  break  my  word." 
"Swear  by  your  love  for  Vanno,  and  his  for  you." 
"I  swear  by  my  love  for  Vanno  and  his  love  for 

me." 

Marie  bent  down  suddenly,  seized  Mary's  hand, 

and  kissed  it. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.     "Now  I  can  be  at  peace, 

for  a  little  while.     Now  I  can  be  glad  that  you're 

engaged  to  Vanno.     And  we  may  see  each   other, 

and  all  four  be  happy  together.     The  ordeal's  over." 


XXIX 

IN  A  few  days  most  of  the  people  between  Nice 
and  Mentone  who  had  been  interested  in  the  beau- 
tiful and  rather  mysterious  Mary  Grant  knew  that 
she  was  engaged  to  marry  Prince  Giovanni  Delia 
Robbia,  a  son  of  the  Roman  Duke  di  Rienzi. 

Many  of  them,  especially  the  women,  said  that 
she  was  very  lucky,  probably  a  great  deal  luckier 
than  she  deserved ;  and  all  the  gossip  about  her  which 
had  been  a  favourite  tea-time  topic,  before  her  losses 
at  the  Casino  began  to  make  her  a  bore,  was  revived 
again.  The  self-satisfied  mother  and  bird-like  girl 
who  had  travelled  with  her  in  the  Paris  train  had  a 
great  deal  to  say.  They  wondered  "if  the  poor 
Prince  knew;  but  of  course  he  couldn't  know.  He 
was  simply  infatuated.  Very  sad.  He  was  such  a 
handsome  young  man,  so  noble  looking,  and  so,  in 
a  way,  historic.  A  million  times  too  good  for  Miss 
Grant,  even  if  there  were  nothing  against  her.  Of 
course,  he  had  gambled  too :  but  then  everything  was 
so  different  for  a  man. 

They  talked  so  much  that  the  mother's  bridge 
friends,  and  the  girl's  tennis  friends,  and  the 
dwellers  in  villas  who,  for  one  cause  or  another, 
had  admitted  Mrs.  and  Miss  Cayley  Binns  to 
the  great  honour  of  "luncheon-terms"  or  the 

463 


464     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

lesser  honour  of  "tea-terms,"  asked  them  for 
particulars.  Facts  were  demanded  at  a  luncheon 
given  for  the  purpose  by  Lady  Meason,  whose  hus- 
band had  once  been  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  This 
lady  had  gone  to  bed  and  stopped  there  for  a 
month  at  the  end  of  Sir  Henry's  year  of  office, 
in  sheer  chagrin  that  "Othello's  occupation"  was 
gone,  and  her  crown  of  glory  set  upon  another's 
head,  while  she  must  retire  to  the  obscurity  of 
Bayswater.  Being  threatened  with  acute  melan- 
cholia, a  specialist  had  advised  a  change  of  air; 
and  Lady  Meason  had  begun  once  more  to  blos- 
som like  a  rose  —  of  the  fully  developed,  cabbage 
order  —  in  the  joy  of  being  "one  of  the  most 
notable,  popular  and  successful  hostesses  of  the 
season  at  Mentone."  She  had  bought  several 
hundred  copies  of  a  Riviera  paper  which  described 
her  in  this  manner,  and  sent  them  to  all  the 
people  who  had  cooled  to  her  at  the  end  of  Sir 
Henry's  Great  Year;  and  living  on  her  new  rep- 
utation, she  gave  each  week  at  her  handsome 
villa  two  large  luncheons,  one  small  and  select  dinner 
where  no  untitled  person  was  invited,  and  a  huge 
Saturday  afternoon  tea  at  the  Mentone  Casino,  with 
a  variety  entertainment  thrown  in.  She  had  rented 
a  villa  last  occupied  by  a  notorious  semi-royal  per- 
sonage, and  engaged  at  great  expense  one  of  the 
best  chefs  to  be  had  on  the  Riviera;  had  indeed, 
figuratively  speaking,  snapped  him  out  of  the  mouth 
of  a  duke;  and  somehow,  no  one  quite  knew  how,  had 
succeeded,  after  nerve-racking  efforts,  in  capturing 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     465 

a  few  of  the  bright,  particular  stars  whose  light 
really  counted  in  the  social  illumination  of  the  Ri- 
viera. To  get  them  in  the  first  instance,  she  had 
been  obliged  to  give  a  dance,  and  to  offer  cotillon 
favours  worth  at  least  five  hundred  francs  each; 
and  these  things  had  been  alluringly  displayed  in  a 
fashionable  jeweller's  window  for  a  week  before  the 
entertainment,  just  at  the  time  when  people  were 
making  up  their  minds  whether  or  not  to  accept  "that 
weird  creature's  "  invitations.  Afterward  she  had 
clinched  matters  by  importing  en  masse  a  world-famed 
troop  of  dancers  from  the  theatre  at  Monte  Carlo  to 
her  villa  at  Mentone,  paying  them  a  thousand  pounds 
for  the  evening;  but  her  reward  had  been  adequate. 
She  was  becoming  a  sort  of  habit  —  like  a  comfort- 
able old  coat  —  among  the  great,  who  like  comfort- 
able old  coats  as  well  as  do  those  who  are  not  great, 
and  quite  important  persons  were  already  forgetting 
to  allude  to  her  as  a  weird  creature  in  confessing  that 
they  had  accepted  her  invitations.  She  had  even 
become  of  consequence  enough  to  snub  Lady  Daun- 
trey  at  the  opera  in  Monte  Carlo,  although,  early  in 
the  season,  the  Dauntreys  had  been  the  first  members 
of  the  peerage  who  had  adorned  her  villa.  As  for 
Mrs.  Holbein,  of  whose  acquaintance  she  had  almost 
boasted  in  prehistoric  days  when  Sir  Henry  was  only 
an  alderman,  Lady  Meason  now  loudly  refused  to 
know  her. 

At  first,  Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  and  her  daughter 
(spelt  Alys)  had  looked  from  afar  off  at  the  magnifi- 
cent villa  of  this  notable  hostess,  and  had  read 


466     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

enviously  the  paragraphs  in  London  and  Riviera 
papers  describing  her  entertainments,  not  missing 
one  of  the  long  list  of  names  attached.  Then  one 
day  they  had  come  across  the  name  of  Miss  Constan- 
tia  Sutfield,  a  woman  who  had  been  governess  to  a 
royal  princess.  Morton  Cayley,  M.D.,  their  distant 
cousin,  had  cured  Miss  Sutfield  of  a  malady  pro- 
nounced fatal  by  other  physicians  with  fewer  letters 
after  their  names.  He  was  unfortunately  a  very  dis- 
tant cousin;  but  when  he  was  young  Mrs.  Cayley- 
Binns'  late  husband  had  lent  him  money,  and  he  had 
been  so  grateful  that  she  had  always  felt  entitled  to 
speak  of  him  openly  as  "dear  cousin  Morton,  the 
great  physician,  you  know,  whom  all  the  royalties 
love."  She  wrote  promptly  and  begged  him  for  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Miss  Sutfield,  who  was  living  above 
the  lower  levels  of  Mentone,  at  the  Annonciata, 
The  letter  came  and  was  sent  to  Miss  Sutfield,  after 
Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  had  increased  her  expenses  at 
the  Hotel  Victoria  Palace,  by  taking  better  rooms 
and  a  private  salon.  She  had  heard  it  said  that  the 
lady  inquired  of  hall  porters,  before  presenting 
her  visiting  cards,  on  which  floor  were  the  apartments 
of  her  would-be  acquaintances,  and  whether  they 
had  their  own  sitting-room.  Miss  Sutfield,  who 
always  talked  of  the  princess  (now  a  queen)  whom 
she  had  governed  as  "dear  little  Mousie,"  called  in 
her  most  stately  manner  upon  Sir  Morton's  cousins. 
She  was  chilling  at  first,  icily  regular  as  "Maud" 
herself,  using  the  full  power  of  that  invaluable 
manner  which  had  kept  Mousie  hypnotized  for 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES    467 

years,  both  as  princess  and  queen.  The  cold  museum 
of  her  memory,  full  of  stately  echoings  from  palaces 
of  kings,  was  opened  for  the  Cayley-Binns'  benefit 
as  show-houses  are  thrown  open  to  the  humble 
public.  She  wore  a  majesty  of  air  which,  to  the 
Cayley-Binns  and  others  who  had  never  "been  to 
court"  or  to  country  house  parties  except  in  the 
pages  of  Society  novels,  seemed  peculiarly  distinctive 
of  the  peerage.  She  warmed  slightly,  however, 
when  in  some  turn  of  the  conversation  Mrs.  Cayley- 
Binns  mentioned  knowing  "that  Miss  Grant,  who 
is  engaged  to  poor  Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia." 
Seeing  that  she  had  inadvertently  struck  a  vein  of 
ore,  Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  ventured  to  hint  that  the 
family  of  the  Prince  was  known  to  her  also.  She  was 
wisely  a  little  mysterious  about  the  acquaintance, 
and  contrived  to  pique  the  interest  of  Miss  Sutfield 
by  vague  and  desperately  involved  allusions.  When 
she  begged  the  lady's  good  offices  in  the  matter  of  a 
card  for  Lady  Meason's  next  Casino  tea,  the  favour 
was  promised.  The  card  came  for  mother  and 
daughter,  who  met  nobody  during  the  early  part  of 
the  entertainment,  except  a  journalist  who  kindly 
pointed  out  notabilities  —  a  good-natured  man  who 
confessed  hating  so  intensely  to  hurt  people's  feelings 
that  he  invented  for  his  "society"  articles  new  pink, 
white  or  green  frocks  for  girls  who  were  too  often 
obliged  to  appear  in  their  old  blue  ones,  during  the 
season.  Later,  however,  Miss  Sutfield  swept  toward 
them  like  a  large  yacht  under  full  sail,  and  regretted 
that  her  friend  Miss  Idina  Bland  had  been  prevented 


468     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

from  appearing,  on  account  of  a  sharp  attack  of 
influenza. 

"She's  staying  with  me  at  the  Annonciata," 
Mousie's  friend  explained;  "a  charming  creature, 
so  uncommon,  lately  come  into  a  tremendous  lot  of 
money,  I  believe,  through  some  relative  in  America 
she  nursed  till  the  end.  She  wanted  to  have  a  talk 
with  you  both,  when  I  told  her  you  knew  the  Duke 
of  Rienzi's  family.  They're  cousins  of  hers  in  some 
way.  She  seems  keen  to  hear  about  this  Miss  Grant. 
But  everybody  wants  to  hear  about  her!  Would 
you  like  to  come  to  quite  a  small  intimate  sort  of 
lunch  party  at  Lady  Meason's,  and  meet  Miss  Bland 
when  she  gets  well,  and  let  us  have  a  nice  little  cozy 
gossip  about  this  quaint  engagement?" 

Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  was  enchanted.  The  one  dif- 
ficulty lay  in  the  scantiness  of  her  information.  She 
made  up  her  mind,  however,  like  a  good  general,  that 
the  difficulty  must  somehow  be  overcome,  and  ac- 
cepted without  visible  hesitation.  Before  she  left 
the  Casino  she  invited  the  journalist  to  call,  with 
the  intention  ojf  pumping  him,  as  he  seemed  to  know 
everything  about  everybody  of  importance,  and 
might  have  details  to  impart  concerning  Prince 
Vanno  Delia  Robbia*  Also,  on  the  way  home  she 
bought  an  *Almanach  de  Gotha.,"  and  made  herself 
familiar  with  the.  family  history  of  the  Dukes  of 
Rienzi,  since  the  year  1215,  when  the  title  first  came 
into  being. 

Naturally,  when  the  moment  arrived,  and  every- 
body at  Lady  Meason's  table  was  looking  eagerly 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     469 

at  Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  —  hitherto  insignificant  — 
she  felt  forced  to  say  something  worth  saying  about 
Miss  Grant.  She  swallowed  hard,  choked  in  a 
crumb,  hastily  sipped  the  excellent  champagne 
Lady  Meason  gave  at  her  second-best  parties,  and 
recovering  herself  said  that  "well,  really,  what  she 
knew  was  almost  too  shocking  to  tell."  There  was 
a  Frenchman,  good-looking,  evidently  a  sort  of 
gentleman,  in  the  train  with  Miss  Grant  when  she 
was  travelling  from  England.  They  had  pretended 
to  be  strangers,  but  had  evidently  known  each  other 
well,  as  several  little  signs  crossing  on  the  boat,  and 
later,  had  "given  away."  Since  then,  this  man  had 
followed  Miss  Grant  to  Monte  Carlo,  and  the  Cayley- 
Binns  had  seen  him  talking  to  her  most  earnestly  in 
a  retired  corner  of  the  biggest  room  at  the  Casino. 
Not  (Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  hastened  to  interpolate) 
that  she  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  her  daughter  to 
the  Casino  at  Monte  Carlo,  or  of  going  often  herself, 
but  occasionally  if  with  friends  she  did  "just  walk 
through  the  Rooms,  on  a  Concert  day."  Others, 
whose  word  could  not  be  doubted,  had  said  that  the 
Frenchman,  an  artist,  had  got  into  difficulties  at  the 
Casino  and  had  obtained  money  from  Miss  Grant, 
some  of  it  in  the  form  of  cheques,  which  he  had 
boasted  of  and  shown  everywhere.  Of  course  he 
must  be  a  detestable  creature;  but  that  fact  did  not 
excuse  Miss  Grant's  friendship  with  him;  rather 
the  contrary.  And  even  if  he  were  a  blackmailer, 
why,  there  must  be  some  foundation  for  the  black- 
mail; otherwise  there  would  be  no  object  in  paying 


470     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to  have  a  secret  kept  —  whatever  it  might  be.  Then 
there  ensued  a  good  deal  of  discussion  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  secret,  provided  it  existed;  and  Mrs. 
Cayley-Binns  talked  eloquently  though  discreetly 
with  Miss  Bland  about  the  latter's  "interesting 
Roman  relatives."  She  admitted  to  Prince  Vanno's 
cousin  that  she  had  not  "exactly  been  at  Rome, 
or  at  Monte  Delia  Robbia,  though  she  had  travelled 
in  Italy";  but  she  "thought  it  must  have  been  in 
Cairo"  that  she  had  met  the  Prince.  He  was  so 
much  in  the  East,  was  he  not?  And  she  too  had 
been  in  the  East.  (It  was  not  necessary  to  state 
that  it  had  been  in  an  excursion  steamer  which  al- 
lowed three  days  for  Cairo,  three  for  Constantinople.) 
The  dear  Prince  might  possibly  not  remember  her 
name,  but  she  would  never  forget  him,  he  was  so 
handsome  and  agreeable,  such  a  romantic  figure  in 
the  world;  and  Alys  was  quite  in  love  with  his  profile. 
In  the  end,  she  discovered  that  Miss  Bland  was 
far  more  interested  in  the  elder  brother  than  the 
younger,  and  in  Prince  Delia  Robbia's  wife  rather 
than  in  Prince  Vanno's  fiancee;  but  it  was  too  late 
to  construct  an  acquaintance,  however  slight,  with 
the  former;  and  certainly  Miss  Bland  had  seemed 
interested  in  the  details  concerning  Mary  Grant. 
The  girl's  name  had  struck  her  particularly,  it  ap- 
peared. She  repeated  it  several  times  over,  saying, 
"Mary  Grant  —  Mary  Grant.  I  didn't  know  her 
name  was  Mary."  And  Miss  Bland  had  the  air  of  be- 
ing puzzled,  as  if  there  was  something  in  the  name — a 
very  common  sort  of  name  —  which  perplexed  her. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     471 

Luckily  Mrs.  Cayley-Binns  and  Alys  were  sure 
that  the  name  was  Mary.  They  had  seen  it  on  a 
cheque,  payable  at  a  Monte  Carlo  bank,  which  Miss 
Grant  by  request  had  given  to  a  bazaar  for  a  Men- 
tone  charity.  Of  course  people  like  that  often  were 
charitable;  and  in  such  persons  it  was  more  selfish 
than  generous  when  you  came  to  think  of  it,  as 
charity  was  supposed  to  cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Everywhere  the  engagement  was  talked  of,  for 
it  was  considered  extraordinary  and  hardly  allow- 
able that  an  eccentric,  sensational  sort  of  girl  about 
whose  early  career  nobody  knew  anything  should 
have  "gobbled  up"  a  young  man  whose  name  was 
known  throughout  Europe.  There  were  only  a  few 
who  went  about  saying  that  she  was  worthy  of  her 
Prince;  Dick  Carleton,  who  was  loyal,  though  heart- 
broken; Jim  Schuyler,  who  wondered  always  why 
Mary  Grant's  face  was  closely  associated  in  his  mind 
with  his  cousin  Molly  Maxwell's;  Major  Norwood, 
who  rejoiced  that  Mary  was  appropriated,  because 
the  Maharajah  of  Indorwana  would  now  see  the 
uselessness  of  lingering  at  Monte  Carlo;  and  Captain 
Hannaford,  who  said  rather  loudly  wherever  he  went 
that  the  Roman  chap  was  ad  —  d  lucky  fellow. 

The  Dauntreys  said  nothing  at  all  on  the  subject. 
If  they  had  opinions  they  had  ceased  to  count,  for 
more  people  every  day  were  dropping  even  Lord 
Dauntrey.  There  had  been  a  scene  at  a  hotel, 
where  Lady  Dauntrey  had  struck  Miss  Collis  in 
the  face  with  her  muff,  for  refusing  to  bow  to  her. 
A  pink  paper  in  London  had  printed  a  verse  describ- 


472     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

ing  the  scene,  which  everybody  saw  and  talked  about 
and  laughed  at.  The  paying  guests  all,  or  almost 
all,  left  the  Villa  Bella  Vista  after  this,  and  —  it  was 
said  —  tradesmen  were  refusing  supplies.  The  ser- 
vants were  gone  or  going;  Lady  Dauntrey  had  to  do 
her  own  work  or  leave  it  undone;  but  still  Lord 
Dauntrey  was  continually  in  the  Casino,  his  wife 
hovering  restlessly  in  the  background.  Even  the 
Holbeins  gave  them  up,  and  Lady  Dauntrey  was 
sometimes  seen  with  the  Frenchman  who  boasted 
of  receiving  Miss  Grant's  cheques.  He  was  sup- 
posed to  be  introducing  amateurs  to  Lord  Dauntrey, 
as  fresh  "victims"  for  the  system. 

As  for  Mary,  she  was  out  of  the  exotic  atmosphere 
of  gossip  and  scandal  and  system-mongering.  It 
would  have  surprised  her  extremely  if  she  had  been 
told  that  whole  luncheon  parties  at  villas,  and  tea- 
parties  at  second-rate  hotels,  thrived  and  battened 
on  talk  concerning  her  affairs,  past,  present,  and  to 
come.  She  was  so  happy  that  she  felt  often  as  if  she 
loved  everybody  in  the  world,  and  longed  to  make 
everybody  else  as  happy,  or  almost  as  happy,  as  she. 

For  two  days  after  meeting  the  Princess  Delia 
Robbia  she  was  thoughtful,  and  a  little  absent- 
minded  even  with  Vanno;  but  when  his  brother  and 
sister-in-law  came  together  to  call  upon  her,  Marie 
appeared  so  light-hearted,  so  entirely  at  ease,  that 
Mary  began  to  regain  her  spirits  again.  It  was 
foolish  to  feel  sad  and  anxious,  almost  conscience- 
stricken,  about  Marie,  if  Marie  had  none  of  these 
feelings  about  herself. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     473 

Then  Mrs.  Winter  gave  a  large  "At  Home"  in 
Miss  Grant's  honour,  which  was  a  great  success. 
Marie  did  not  come,  because  she  was  unfortunately 
suffering  with  headache;  but  Prince  Delia  Robbia 
appeared,  and  stood  most  of  the  time  near  Mary  and 
Vanno. 

It  was  wonderful  how  many  people  knew  and 
liked  the  Winters.  All  the  most  interesting  "per- 
sonages" on  the  Riviera  passed  through  Rose's 
pretty  rooms  that  afternoon,  if  but  to  say  "How  do 
you  do?"  and  "Goodbye,"  and  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Prince  Vanno,  with  the  Princess-to- 
be.  Everybody  came,  from  a  dowdy  and  perfectly 
charming  German,  royalty  down  to  poor  old  General 
Caradine,  who  had  played  roulette  for  twenty-five 
years,  with  the  same  live  Mexican  toad  for  a  fetish; 
whose  two  great  boasts  were  that  he  had  learned  the 
language  of  birds,  and  that  he  had  fought  a  duel 
with  a  man  for  defaming  Queen  Mary  of  Scots. 
There  were  an  English  Foreign  Secretary  and  a 
leader  of  the  Opposition  hobnobbing  together. 
There  was  an  author  who  wrote  under  two  names, 
and  had  come  to  study  Monte  Carlo  in  order  to 
write  two  epoch-making  novels,  one  in  favour  of  the 
Casino,  one  against,  and  was  taking  notes  of  every- 
body he  met,  for  both  books.  There  was  an  Austrian 
princess  who  had  more  beautiful  jewels  than  any 
woman  at  Monte  Carlo,  except  a  celebrated  dancer 
who  was  taking  a  rest  cure  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris;  and 
there  was  the  princess'  half-sister  who  had  married 
a  poor  artist  and  lived  in  his  house  in  the  mountains, 


474     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

doing  her  own  cooking.  Also  there  were  all  Rose's 
queer  black  sheep  who  yielded  meekly  to  her  ribbon- 
wreathed  crook,  though  they  "butted"  against 
George's  methods.  Some  of  these  were  seriously 
shorn  sheep,  yet  Rose  would  not  for  worlds  have 
hurt  their  feelings  by  forgetting  to  invite  them. 

It  was  a  marvellously  incongruous  assemblage,  as 
most  large  and  far-reaching  entertainments  at  Monte 
Carlo  must  be;  and  odd  things  happened  in  corners 
behind  tea-tables,  such  as  young  gamblers  producing 
large  wads  of  notes  freshly  won  in  the  Rooms  and 
flourishing  them  under  the  eyes  of  ladies  who 
tabooed  the  name  of  the  Casino.  But  there  was  no 
gossip,  no  scandal:  for  somehow  in  "St.  George" 
Winter's  house  one  felt  warmly  disposed  even  to 
one's  enemies;  and  no  unkind  words  were  spoken 
by  any  one  except  General  Caradine.  He,  who  had 
a  habit  of  mumbling  his  secret  thoughts  aloud 
unconsciously,  was  heard  to  mutter:  "Same  old 
crew:  same  dull  lot,  year  after  year,  world  without 
end.  Damned  tired  of  'em!" 

This  party  cleared  the  air  for  Mary.  Engaged  to 
Prince  Vanno  Delia  Robbia,  approved  by  his  elder 
brother,  and  the  guest  of  the  popular  Winters,  those 
who  counted  in  the  great  world  were  quite  ready 
to  forget  that  she  had  been  "rather  talked  about," 
or  else  to  like  her  all  the  better  for  that  reason. 
It  was  only  the  people  who  were  on  the  fringe  of 
things,  like  Mrs.  Cayley-Binns,  or  beyond  the  pale, 
like  Mrs.  Holbein  or  Lady  Dauntrey,  who  bitterly 
remembered  her  eccentricities. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  475 

The  day  after  Rose's  "At  Home"  for  Miss  Grant 
was  Mary's  last  as  the  Winters' guest.  Princess  Delia 
Robbia  wanted  her  at  the  Villa  Mirasole,  and  Vanno 
wished  her  to  go.  He  had  written  to  tell  the  Duke  of 
his  engagement ;  and  as  his  father  begged  him  to  come 
home  and  talk  it  over,  he  thought  of  leaving  soon, 
for  three  or  four  days.  He  felt  that,  if  he  must 
part  from  Mary,  he  would  like  her  to  be  at  his 
brother's  house. 

While  Rose's  maid  oblingingly  packed  her  things, 
Mary  went  out  on  that  last  afternoon  for  a  walk 
with  Vanno.  He  had  a  special  object  in  view,  it 
seemed,  but  intended  it  to  be  a  surprise. 

First,  he  took  her  to  the  rock  of  the  tablet, 
"Remember  eternal  at  my  heart."  It  was  early, 
and  fashionable  folk  were  still  lingering  over  their 
luncheons  at  the  restaurants,  therefore  the  two  had 
the  long  road,  in  curve  after  curve  of  dusty  white- 
ness, all  to  themselves,  as  if  hour  and  place  were 
both  their  own. 

"It  was  here  we  first  spoke  to  each  other,"  Vanno 
said,  "here  where  another  man  of  Italy  who  loved 
a  girl  of  your  country  had  the  great  moment  of  his 
life  to  remember.  Something  made  me  speak  to 
you  at  this  spot.  Perhaps  where  love  has  been  - 
everlasting  love  —  it  leaves  an  influence  always, 
something  stronger  and  more  eternal  and  far  more 
subtle  than  words  carved  in  a  tablet  of  marble  or 
stone.  Who  can  tell  about  such  things  in  life,  things 
that  are  in  life  yet  beyond  and  behind  it,  where  we  can 
catch  only  whispers  of  a  message  and  a  mystery? 


476     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Perhaps  it  was  the  influence  of  that  other  love  which 
made  me  speak  in  spite  of  myself — for  I  hadn't  meant 
to  speak.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  here,  dearest  one, 
cara,  carissima,  how  I  love  you  —  how  my  love  for 
you  is  *  eternal  at  my  heart '  and  my  soul  —  all  there 
is  of  me." 

He  took  both  her  hands,  and  when  his  eyes  had 
said  again  to  her  eyes  what  his  lips  had  just  spoken, 
they  both  looked  up  at  the  words  on  the  marble 
tablet. 

"If  those  two  who  loved  each  other  return  in 
spirit  sometimes  together,"  Vanno  said,  "I  think 
they  must  have  been  here  the  day  when  we  first 
met  at  this  spot,  and  that  they  are  here  again  now. 
If  they  see  us  they  know  why  we  have  come,  and  they 
are  glad  and  pleased  with  us,  like  two  lovers  who 
'make  a  match'  between  dear  friends." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  thought  of  yours,"  Mary 
answered;  "and  it  seems  so  real  that  I  can  almost 
see  those  lovers.  But  remember  the  story  —  how 
they  were  parted  forever  on  this  earth.  Do  you 
know,  I  feel  almost  —  just  a  tiny  bit  —  supersti- 
tious. I  mean  about  our  coming  here  especially  to 
make  a  vow  of  eternal  love  to  each  other.  What  if 
we,  too,  should  be  parted?" 

"Darling,  nothing  can  part  us,"  Vanno  assured  her, 
"because  love  has  made  our  hearts  one,  now  and 
forever.  You  and  I  have  belonged  to  each  other 
since  time  began,  through  hundreds  of  earth-lives 
perhaps,  and  thousands  of  vicissitudes:  always  find- 
ing one  another  again.  A  little  while  ago,  a  cloud 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES       477 

came  between  us,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  might  be 
swept  away  from  one  another;  but  it  passed,  and 
we  found  each  other  and  ourselves,  in  the  light,  far 
above  cloudline.  That's  why  I  say,  nothing  can 
part  us  now,  not  even  death.  And  as  for  this  tablet 
of  two  parted  lovers,  it  wasn't  put  up  to  commemo- 
rate their  sorrows,  but  their  happiness;  and  so  it  can 
bring  us  only  happiness." 

"Look!"  Mary  exclaimed,  standing  back  a  little 
from  the  mule  path  which  descended  there,  and  press- 
ing closer  under  the  rock  of  the  tablet.  Winding  down 
the  path  came  a  little  procession,  a  few  peasants 
bareheaded,  dressed  in  black,  clean  and  piteous  in 
their  neatness.  The  women  were  silently  crying, 
tears  wet  on  their  brown  cheeks,  their  eyes  red. 
The  men,  two  who  were  old  and  two  who  were  young, 
carried  a  very  small,  roughly  made  bier,  on  which 
was  a  tiny  coffin  almost  covered  with  flowers,  and 
wild,  scented  herbs  of  the  mountains.  Their  thick 
boots  clattered  on  the  cobblestones,  but  they  made 
no  other  sound,  and  none  raised  their  eyes  as  they 
went  by.  It  was  as  if  the  lovers  were  invisible  to 
them,  as  though  they  were  of  a  different  order  of 
being  which  the  sad  eyes  were  not  fitted  to  see. 

As  the  procession  defiled  upon  the  main  road,  at 
the  foot  of  the  mule  path  it  paused  a  moment. 
Though  the  mourners  did  not  see  him,  Vanno  took 
off  his  hat  and  stood  with  it  held  rather  high  above 
his  head,  in  his  right  hand,  as  is  the  custom  with  all 
Latin  men  for  the  passing  of  a  funeral.  The  driver 
of  a  landau  that  climbed  the  hill,  and  a  chauffeur 


478     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

driving  an  automobile  down  toward  the  lower 
Corniche,  paid  the  same  reverence  to  the  little  coffin, 
giving  right  of  way  to  the  procession  before  moving 
on.  The  funeral  turned  in  the  direction  of  Roque- 
brune,  and  Mary  and  Vanno  guessed  that  it  was  going 
to  the  church^there,  and  the  cure.  But  in  the  landau 
which  had  waited  was  a  pretty  young  bride  and  a 
tall-hatted  bridegroom,  with  bridesmaid  and  ''best 
man."  They  were  evidently  beginning  the  honey- 
moon, which  would  consist  of  a  long  drive  in  wedding 
finery  and  flowers,  then  a  dinner,  and  perhaps  the 
grand  finale  of  a  dance.  At  sight  of  the  funeral 
coming  out  from  the  mule  path  and  passing  directly 
in  front  of  their  horses,  the  bride  let  fall  her  huge 
bouquet,  and  regardless  of  tulle  veil  and  fluffy  laces, 
cast  herself  into  her  husband's  arms,  hiding  her  face 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Quel  mauvais  signe!"  muttered  the  driver,  as  he 
put  on  his  much  paraffined  silk  hat,  settled  his  wed- 
ding boutonniere  in  its  place,  and  drove  on  at  a  trot. 

Mary  looked  up  at  Vanno  without  speaking,  but 
her  eyes,  saddened  by  the  sorrow  of  others,  asked  a 
question. 

'"In  the  midst  of  life!'"  Vanno  quoted.  "But  it 
is  not  a  bad  sign  for  us  or  for  any  one.  And 
even  if  we  were  superstitious,  we  saw  the  wedding 
last." 


XXX 

VANNO'S  "surprise"  for  Mary  was  a  beautiful 
piece  of  land  which  he  wanted  to  buy  for  her,  in 
order  to  have  a  home  where  they  might  come  some- 
times, and  spend  a  few  weeks  alone  together  in  the 
country  where  they  had  first  met  and  loved  each 
other. 

The  ground  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon  was 
close  to  the  cure's  garden,  and  it  belonged  to  Achille 
Gonzales.  Already,  at  Vanno's  request,  the  cure 
had  interviewed  both  Achille  and  the  older  Gon- 
zales. An  appointment  had  been  made  for  three 
o'clock,  and  the  cure  was  to  have  introduced  the 
two  rich  peasants,  father  and  son,  to  the  Prince; 
but  owing  to  the  procession  which  Vanno  and 
Mary  had  seen,  he  was  not  able  to  keep  his  en- 
gagement. And  rather  strangely,  Mary's  host  had 
been  prevented  by  much  the  same  reason,  from 
accepting  Vanno's  invitation  to  meet  him  "on  the 
land"  a  little  later.  He  too  had  a  funeral  service 
that  day,  but  a  very  different  funeral,  and  one  which 
oppressed  "St.  George"  Winter  with  a  peculiar 
sadness.  Death,  as  a  rule,  did  not  seem  sad  to  him; 
but  he  had  a  horror  of  the  habit  of  gambling,  which 
appeared  to  his  eyes  like  an  incubus  on  a  man's  life, 
a  dead  albatross  hung  round  the  neck  to  rot.  And 

479 


480     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

this  man  who  had  died  and  was  to  be  buried  in  the 
cemetery  at  Monaco  had  been  a  gambler  for  thirty 
years.  He  and  his  faded  wife  had  existed  rather  than 
lived  in  a  third-class  hotel,  where  they  kept  on  the 
same  rooms  year  after  year,  never  going  away  in 
the  summer  unless,  if  exceptionally  prosperous,  to 
spend  a  few  of  the  hottest  weeks  in  the  mountains. 
Their  tiny  rooms  were  given  them  at  a  cheap  rate 
because  the  man  brought  clients  to  the  hotel,  "ama- 
teurs" who  wished  to  learn  his  great  system,  the 
system  to  whose  perfecting  he  had  devoted  thirty 
years.  He  had  advertised  himself,  and  almost 
believed  in  himself,  as  "le  roi  de  la  roulette,"  who 
for  payment  of  two  louis  would  impart  to  any  one 
the  secret  of  unlimited  wealth.  Ignoring  failure, 
pursuing  success,  his  own  tiny  fortune,  his  wife's 
youth,  had  gone.  And  as  his  body  went  to  the 
grave  the  whole  record  of  his  life  —  thousands  of 
roulette  cards  in  neat  packets,  innumerable  note- 
books containing  the  great  secret  —  lay  waiting  for 
the  dustman.  The  man's  wife  in  preparing  to  leave 
Monte  Carlo  forever  had  turned  all  his  treasures 
out  of  the  trunks  where  through  years  they  had 
accumulated,  and  had  them  flung  into  a  huge 
dust  bin  kept  for  the  waste  things  of  the  hotel 
kitchen.  This  George  Winter  knew,  for  the 
woman  had  boasted  bitterly  of  the  last  revenge 
she  meant  to  take.  "'Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to 
ashes.'  Let  all  be  swept  away  and  forgotten," 
she  had  said;  and  the  words  haunted  the  chaplain, 
mourning  through  his  brain  like  the  voice  of  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     481 

tideless  sea  that  moaned  ceaselessly  under  his  study 
window. 

He  longed  to  go  back  to  Rose  and  be  cheered 
by  her  into  hopefulness,  to  have  her  assure  him  in 
her  warm,  loving  way  that  he  was  doing  some  good 
in  this  strange  place  of  brilliant  gayety  and  black 
tragedy;  that  his  work  was  not  all  in  vain,  though 
so  often  he  likened  it  to  the  task  of  Sisyphus.  But 
he  found  Dick  Carleton  with  Rose,  and  their  faces 
told  him  that  there  was  no  hope  of  comfort. 

"Oh,  St.  George,  poor  Captain  Hannaford  is 
dead!"  were  Rose's  first  words  as  her  husband  came 
into  the  drawing-room.  Then  she  was  sorry  that 
she  had  flung  the  news  at  him  so  abruptly,  for  just 
too  late  she  read  in  his  eyes  the  wistful  need  of  con- 
solation. 

"Dead!"  he  echoed,  almost  stupidly.  He  had 
liked  Hannaford,  and  had  often  invited  him  to  play 
chess  in  the  evenings,  hoping  with  unconquerable 
optimism  to  "wean  him  from  the  Casino."  The 
quiet  man,  with  his  black  patches,  his  calm  manner 
and  slow  smile  as  unreadable  as  the  eyes  of  the 
Sphinx,  had  seemed  to  George  Winter  a  curiously 
tragic  yet  mysteriously  attractive  figure.  "Hanna- 
ford dead!"  he  repeated  slowly. 

"I  only  just  heard,"  Dick  explained.  "I  was 
down  at  my  hangar  tinkering  with  the  Flying  Fish, 
for,  you  know,  I'm  taking  her  to  Cannes  to-morrow. 
Poor  Hannaford's  hotel  isn't  far  away,  and  he  used 
to  stroll  over  and  talk  to  me  sometimes.  The 
manager  knew  that,  and  sent  a  boy  to  ask  me  to 


482     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

come  in  at  once.  He  didn't  say  what  the  matter 
was,  except  that  something  had  happened  to  Hanna- 
ford.  It  seems  that  lately  he's  been  in  the  habit  of 
sleeping  through  the  whole  morning,  giving  orders 
that  he  wasn't  to  be  disturbed  till  he  rang.  So  when 
there  were  no  signs  of  him  to-day  at  lunch  time  no- 
body worried.  It  was  only  when  two  o'clock  came 
and  he  hadn't  stirred  that  the  valet  de  chambre  be- 
gan to  think  it  queer.  They  have  glass  transoms 
over  the  doors,  and  they  could  see  his  room  was 
dark.  I  expect  they  listened  at  the  keyhole;  any- 
how, the  landlord  was  consulted  at  last,  and  when 
they'd  knocked  and  called  without  getting  any 
answer,  at  last  they  opened  the  door.  Luckily 
nobody  was  about  at  that  time  of  day  —  every  one 
out  of  doors  or  in  the  Casino,  so  there  was  no  scene. 
Hannaford  was  lying  as  if  asleep  in  bed,  but  stone 
cold;  and  the  doctor  they  sent  for  said  he  must  have 
been  dead  for  hours.  In  his  hand  was  a  volume  of 
Omar  Khayyam,  with  a  faded  white  rose  for  a  book 
marker.  There  was  a  bottle  half  full  of  veronal 
tabloids  on  the  table  by  the  bedside;  and  he  was 
known  to  be  in  the  habit  of  taking  veronal,  as  he 
was  a  bad  sleeper.  One  hopes  it  was  simply  —  an 
overdose,  taken  accidentally. " 

"Why   should   any   one   suspect  the  contrary?' 
Winter  asked,  his  kind  voice  sharpened  by  distress. 

Dick  was  silent,  looking  at  Rose. 

"Come  and  sit  by  me,  dear,"  she  said,  holding 
out  her  hand  to  her  husband.  He  came,  sinking 
down  on  the  sofa  with  a  sense  of  relief,  for  he  had 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     483 

been  conscious  of  a  weakness  in  the  knees,  as  if  on 
entering  the  room  he  had  stumbled  blindly  against 
a  bar  of  iron. 

"Dick  and  I  had  just  got  to  that  part,  when  you 
opened  the  door,"  Rose  went  on.  "We  are  afraid 
-  you  said  yourself  that  Captain  Hannaford  was 
changed,  the  last  time  he  came  here." 

"Only  three  days  ago,"  George  mused  aloud. 
"He  didn't  look  well.  But  he  said  he  was  all 
right." 

"He  would!  You  know  how  he  hated  to  talk  of 
himself  or  anything  he  felt,  poor  fellow.  But  I 
thought  even  then  —  I  guessed " 

"What?" 

"That  it  was  a  blow  to  him,  hearing  of  Mary 
Grant's  engagement."  As  she  said  this,  Rose  care- 
fully did  not  look  at  her  cousin.  She  was  not  at  all 
anxious  about  Dick.  She  knew  that  he  would 
"get  over  it,"  and  even  prophesied  to  herself  that 
his  heart  would  be  "caught  in  the  rebound"  by  the 
first  very  pretty,  very  nice  girl  who  happened  to  be 
thrown  with  him  in  circumstances  at  all  romantic. 
Mary  was  not  his  first  love  by  any  means,  and  would 
certainly  not  be  his  last;  and  meanwhile  Rose  felt 
that  unconsciously  he  was  enjoying  his  own  jealous 
pain.  Still,  she  did  not  wish  to  "rub  it  in."  "We 
both  imagined  that  Captain  Hannaford  was  in  love 
with  Miss  Grant,"  she  explained;  for  one  had  to 
explain  these  things  to  George.  She  often  thought 
it  a  wonder  that  he  had  come  down  to  earth  long 
enough  to  fall  in  love,  himself;  but  when  she  ob- 


484     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

served  this  to  him,  he  had  answered  that  it  was 
not  coming  down  to  earth. 

"We  were  most  of  us  more  or  less  in  that  condi- 
tion," Dick  remarked  bravely. 

"The  rest  of  you  have  a  great  deal  left  to  live  for, 
even  without  her,"  said  Rose.  "Captain  Hanna- 
ford  hadn't.  But  I'm  thankful  they're  not  likely, 
anyhow,  to  prove  that  his  death  was  not  —  an 
accident." 

"They  don't  go  out  of  their  way  to  prove  such 
things  here,  ever,"  Dick  mumbled. 

"People  will  say,"  Rose  pursued,  "that  there  was 
no  motive  for  suicide  —  nothing  to  worry  about. 
He'd  won  heaps  of  money,  and  seemed  very  keen  on 
the  villa  he'd  bought." 

"By  Jove,  I  wonder  what'll  happen  to  that  un- 
lucky villa  now!"  Carleton  exclaimed.  "Somehow, 
Hannaford  didn't  seem  the  sort  of  chap  to  bother 
about  wills  and  leaving  all  his  affairs  nice  and  tidy 
in  case  anything  happened. " 

"He  told  me  once  that  he  had  no  people  —  that 
he  was  entirely  alone,"  said  George.  "Still,  he 
must  have  had  friends,  friends  far  more  intimate 
than  those  he  made  here.  Even  we  were  no  more 
than  acquaintances.  He  gave  us  no  confidence." 

"I  can't  imagine  his  confiding  in  any  one,"  Rose 
said.  "But  —  I'm  not  at  all  sure  whether  it's  a 
coincidence  or  not:  a  letter  has  just  come  by  the 
afternoon  post,  for  Mary  Grant,  in  his  handwriting. 
It  has  an  Italian  stamp,  and  is  post-marked  Ven- 
timiglia.  Probably  he  wrote  it  yesterday,  at  the 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     485 

Chateau  Lontana,  knowing  it  wouldn't  get  to  her 
till  this  afternoon,  as  the  posts  from  Italy  are  so 
slow." 

"How  strange!"  George  exclaimed.  "Strange, 
and  very  sad. " 

"The  letter  hadn't  been  in  the  house  five  minutes, 
when  Dick  came  in  with  the  news  of  his  death." 

George's  eyes,  which  appeared  always  to  see 
something  mysteriously  beautiful  behind  people's 
heads,  fixed  themselves  on  vacancy  that  did  not 
seem  to  be  vacant  for  him.  "Hannaford  was  there 
in  his  house  alone  yesterday,  writing  to  Miss  Grant, " 
he  murmured.  "How  little  he  thought  that  when 
she  read  his  letter  he  would  be  in  another  world. " 

"I  wonder?"  Rose  whispered.  "It  is  long  after 
five.  Mary  will  be  coming  in  soon.  Then,  perhaps, 
we  shall  know." 


XXXI 

DICK  CARLETON  had  gone  before  Vanno  brought 
Mary  back  to  the  Winters'  flat.  Unconsciously  he 
was  enjoying  his  heartbreak.  It  was  satisfactory  to 
prove  the  depth  and  acuteness  of  his  own  feelings, 
for  sometimes  he  had  feared  that  he  might  not  be 
capable  of  a  great  love,  a  love  in  the  "grand  manner," 
such  as  swept  off  their  feet  men  in  the  novels  and 
plays  which  women  adored.  Now  he  believed  him- 
self to  be  in  the  throes  of  such  a  love  and  was  secretly 
proud  of  his  passion,  but  the  pain  of  seeing  Prince 
Vanno  with  Mary  was  rather  too  real,  too  sharp  for 
analytical  enjoyment;  and  when  he  could,  Dick 
avoided  twisting  the  knife  in  his  wound. 

Rose  and  George  Winter  had  been  alone  together 
only  for  a  few  minutes,  and  there  had  been  no  time 
to  decide  upon  any  plan  of  action,  when  Mary  and 
Vanno  came  in. 

The  girl  was  looking  radiant,  for  in  the  excitement 
of  bargaining  for  land  she  had  forgotten,  not  the 
little  procession  to  which  men  lifted  their  hats,  but 
the  heavy  sense  of  impending  loss  it  had  laid  upon 
her  heart.  Rose  thought  that  she  had  never  seen 
Mary  in  such  beauty.  She  seemed  to  exhale  happi- 
ness; and  the  fancy  flashed  through  the  mind  of  the 
older  woman  that  the  girl's  body  was  like  a  trans- 

486 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     487 

parent  vase  filled  to  its  crystal  brim  with  the  wine  of 
joy  and  life.  To  tell  the  news  of  Hannaford's  death 
would  be  to  pour  into  the  vase  a  dark  liquid,  and 
cloud  the  opalescent  wine.  Still,  Mary  must  be 
told,  and  it  would  be  better,  safer,  for  her  to  know 
before  she  opened  the  letter  with  the  Italian  post- 
mark; otherwise  something  written  there  might 
come  upon  her  with  a  shock.  Rose  and  her  husband 
glanced  at  one  another.  Each  was  hoping  that  the 
other  would  find  a  way  to  begin. 

Mary  had  come  to  feel  very  happily  at  home  with 
the  Winters  in  the  short  time  she  had  spent  with 
them;  and  often  at  night  when  she  dreamed  of  being 
at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista  she  waked  thankfully,  with 
a  sense  of  escape  from  something  unknown  yet 
vaguely  terrible.  She  could  talk  with  Rose  and 
George  Winter  as  with  old  friends,  and  Vanno  too 
had  the  feeling  of  having  known  them  both  for  a 
long  time. 

They  began  to  tell  of  their  adventures  with  the 
Gonzales  family  at  Roquebrune,  and  Rose  caught  at 
the  excuse  to  put  off  the  moment  she  dreaded. 

"It  was  such  fun  up  there!"  Mary  exclaimed. 
"I'd  no  idea  that  one  bought  land  by  the  square 
yard,  or  metre;  but  it's  the  way  here,  apparently; 
and  Vanno's  going  to  give  that  handsome  young 
man  who's  engaged  to  your  maid  twelve  francs  a 
metre  for  his  terrain,  although  there's  no  road  to  it. 
But  really  that's  a  great  advantage  according  to  the 
father,  a  large  yellow  old  man  with  no  hair  to  speak 
of,  and  only  one  tooth,  round  which  his  words  seem 


488     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to  eddy  as  water  eddies  round  a  stone  in  a  pool.  It 
was  fascinating  to  watch!  We're  to  have  crowds 
of  fireflies,  because  there'll  be  no  motor  dust;  and  the 
saying  among  the  peasants  is  that  the  mouches 
brillantes  search  always  with  their  lanterns,  for  a  lost 
brother.  And  birds  will  'se  coucher  dans  les  roses 
eke  nous.'  Isn't  that  a  darling  expression?  Think 
of  having  birds  go  to  bed  in  your  roses !  So  you  see, 
the  land's  quite  worth  the  twelve  francs,  because 
there's  no  road;  and  I  almost  hope  there'll  never  be 
one,  for  Vanno  and  I  shan't  want  to  come  down  often 
from  our  castle  in  the  air,  where  the  view's  so 
wonderful.  There's  no  water  there  yet;  but  the  most 
fun  of  all  to-day  was  the  water-diviner  the  old 
Gonzales  brought.  He  squatted  on  the  ground, 
holding  an  immense  silver  watch  by  a  chain  —  a 
little  gnome  of  a  man  with  a  huge  head  thatched 
with  gray  hair.  As  he  swung  his  watch,  tendons 
in  his  throat  worked  as  chicken's  claws  do  scratching 
for  worms;  and  whenever  his  watch  began  to  swing 
violently  it  meant  that  he  was  over  a  spring.  He 
found  three  springs  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other, 
so  we've  only  to  dig,  and  get  torrents  of  water." 

"I'm  sure  you  were  children  in  the  hands  of  those 
shrewd  peasants,"  said  Rose,  "unless  your  friend  the 
cure  was  with  you." 

"No,  he  wasn't,  but  he  sent  a  man  to  translate 
the  patois,  for  the  old  Gonzales  can't  speak  much 
French;  and  it  was  lucky  we  had  this  man  to  take 
our  part,  because  of  a  big  caroubier-tree  on  the  place 
which  belongs  to  a  distant  cousin  of  the  Gonzales, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     489 

and  has  been  in  his  family  for  generations.  Vanno 
must  buy  it  separately,  otherwise  the  owner  will 
have  a  right  to  come  and  beat  it  all  night  if  he  likes, 
or  tether  animals  under  the  branches.  Fortunately 
the  cure's  friend  warned  us  in  time." 

"Gonzales  is  rather  a  celebrated  old  chap,"  George 
Winter  remarked,  composing  his  mind  as  Mary 
talked  on.  "He  made  a  reputation  by  refusing  a 
fortune  in  order  to  keep  a  tiny  baraque  of  a  house 
which  he  and  his  wife  had  lived  in  for  forty  years." 

"So  he  told  us,"  said  Vanno.  "A  wonderful 
story;  it  sounded  too  good  to  be  true." 

"Was  it  about  the  Russian  countess  who  wanted 
to  buy  a  large  piece  of  land,  and  all  the  other  peasant 
owners  were  keen  to  sell,  except  Gonzales,  who  had 
a  bit  about  twenty  yards  square,  exactly  in  the 
middle?"  asked  Rose. 

"Yes,  and  the  countess  went  up  and  up  in  her 
bidding  from  two  thousand  francs  to  four  hundred 
thousand;  but  Gonzales  wouldn't  sell,  because  he 
liked  the  view.  He  told  us  that  he  still  lives  in  the 
baraque,  though  he  owns  other  houses  and  much 
land." 

"Perfectly  true,"  said  Rose.  "I  walk  up  and 
chat  with  him  sometimes.  He's  very  rich  for  a 
peasant,  and  shrewd,  though  stupid  too,  for  he  has 
a  horror  of  banks  and  hides  his  money  heaven  knows 
where.  He  had  thousands  of  francs  in  banknotes 
in  a  cellar  among  his  potatoes,  and  they  were  all 
eaten  by  rats;  but  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  said  'twas  no  worse  than  having  them  devoured 


490     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

by  speculators.  Oh,  these  peasants  of  the  Riviera 
are  wonderful!" 

"Vanno  and  I  will  make  friends  with  them  when 
we  have  a  house  up  there,"  said  Mary.  "Maybe  it 
will  be  ready  next  year.  Who  knows?  Vanno  says 
we  must  come  every  season,  if  only  for  a  few  weeks, 
just  to  show  ourselves  that  we  care  for  other  things 
than  the  Casino.  And  then,  how  delightful  to  see 
our  friends!  You,  who  have  been  so  good  to  me, 
and  Captain  Hannaford,  if  he's  living  in  his  Italian 
chateau " 

"Dear,  he  won't  be  there,"  said  Rose,  laying  her 
hand  on  Mary's,  as  the  two  sat  together  on  the 
flowery  chintz  sofa. 

"Why  —  what  makes  you  think  that?"  Mary 
asked  quickly,  noticing  at  last  the  pallor  of  Rose's 
face. 

"I  don't  think.  I  know.  George  and  I  have 
been  wondering  how  we  were  to  tell  you,  because 
you  and  Captain  Hannaford  were  such  good  friends." 

"  Were?  Oh,  Mrs.  Winter,  he  is  not  —  dead?  But 
no,  we  met  him  walking  day  before  yesterday.  He 
looked  —  much  as  usual.  Only  perhaps  a  little 
pale." 

"His  heart  must  have  been  weak,"  Rose  said. 
"You  know,  he  didn't  sleep  well.  And  a  little  while 
ago  they  found  that  he'd  passed  away  in  the  night 
quite  peacefully.  They  believe  it  must  have  been 
an  overdose  of  veronal.  He  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  it." 

Mary  sprang  up,  her  hands  clasped  and  pressed 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     491 

against  her  breast.  All  colour  was  drained  from  her 
face.  There  was  a  look  of  horror  in  her  eyes,  as  if 
she  saw  some  dreadful  thing  which  others  could  not 
see.  But  Rose  thought  that  she  knew  what  brought 
the  look,  and  hurried  on  before  Mary  could  speak. 
"Such  accidents  have  been  happening  often  lately. 
People  oughtn't  to  be  allowed  to  buy  drugs  and 
take  any  dose  they  choose." 

"It  —  they  do  say  that  —  that  it  was  an  acci- 
dent?" Mary  stammered,  the  blood  flowing  slowly 
back  to  cheeks  and  lips. 

"Oh,  yes.  Dick,  who  told  us,  said  so  at  once. 
And  everybody  else  here  will  say  it,  you  may  be 
sure." 

Vanno  went  to  Mary,  and  taking  her  clasped 
hands,with  gentle  force  drew  her  against  his  shoulder, 
in  true  Latin  indifference  to  the  presence  of  others. 
"Darling,  don't  look  so  desperate,"  he  said.  "Poor 
Hannaford  wasn't  a  happy  man  in  his  life.  I  think 
he  must  be  glad  to  die." 

"Ah,  that  is  the  reason  I "  Mary  stopped. 

She  had  not  told  him  or  any  one  that  Hannaford  had 
wished  to  be  more  than  a  friend  to  her.  It  had  not 
seemed  right  to  tell  even  Vanno  about  another's  love 
and  disappointment.  Almost  it  would  have  been, 
she  felt,  like  boasting. 

"Perhaps  George  and  I  might  have  let  you  go  on 
being  happy  while  you  were  with  us,"  Rose  said,  "if 
a  letter  hadn't  come  addressed  to  you  in  Captain 
Hannaford's  handwriting.  It  was  better  for  you  to 
know  everything  before  opening  it,  just  in  case " 


492     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Rose  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  but,  getting  up, 
went  to  the  mantelpiece,  where  she  had  placed  the 
envelope  in  front  of  a  gilded  French  clock  that  looked 
pitifully  frivolous  as  a  background. 

"Would  you  like  us  to  go  out,  and  let  you  read 
your  letter  alone  with  the  Prince?"  she  asked,  as  she 
gave  the  envelope  to  Mary. 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "No,  I'd  rather  have 
you  all  with  me." 

For  a  minute  she  stood  with  the  sealed  envelope 
in  her  hand,  looking  down  at  her  name  in  Hanna- 
ford's  clearly  formed,  thick,  and  very  black  hand- 
writing. She  had  received  two  or  three  notes  from 
him,  and  in  spite  of  their  friendship  had  tossed  them 
indifferently  away  as  soon  as  read.  But  that  was 
before  their  luncheon  together  at  the  Rochers  Rouges. 
Since  then  he  had  not  written.  Mary  wished  now 
that  she  had  kept  his  letters,  and  her  heart  was  heavy 
with  remorse  because  she  had  thought  very  seldom 
about  him  since  her  need  of  his  sympathy  no  longer 
existed.  How  selfish  and  cruel  she  had  been! 

The  girl  made  a  sudden  movement  as  if  to  break 
the  seal  pressed  by  Hannaford's  ring,  but  paused,  and 
taking  a  hatpin  from  her  hat  carefully  cut  the  enve- 
lope across  the  top.  Pulling  out  the  folded  sheet  of 
paper  she  turned  away  even  from  Vanno,  making 
an  excuse  that  she  must  have  more  light. 

My  One  Friend  [Hannaford's  letter  began]:  You  have 
many  friends,  and  that  is  as  it  should  be,  but  I  have  only  one 
human  being  dear  enough  to  be  called  by  the  good  name  of 
"friend":  You.  And  that's  why  I  am  writing  you  now.  There's 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     493 

nobody  else  I  care  to  write  to;  but  somehow  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  haven't  got  a  very  long  lease  of  life.  Doctors  tell  me  this. 
My  heart  isn't  much  good  for  the  ordinary  everyday  uses  a  man 
wants  to  put  his  heart  to,  and  soon  it  may  decide  to  strike  work. 
I  feel  sure  this  verdict  is  a  true  one,  but  I  wouldn't  bother  you 
with  my  presentiments  if  it  weren't  for  a  certain  thing  which 
concerns  your  future.  I  may  wake  up  dead  —  as  the  Irishman 
remarked  —  any  morning,  and  I  want  you  to  have  whatever  is 
mine  to  leave  behind  me.  You  mustn't  object  to  this,  for  it's 
the  one  thought  that  gives  me  pleasure;  and  honestly  there's 
no  one  else  to  whom  I  can  bequeath  my  worldly  goods.  All  I 
have  worth  giving  is  the  Chateau  Lontana  and  just  enough 
money  to  make  it  habitable.  I  am  writing  this  letter  there,  on 
the  loggia  I  told  you  about.  I  used  to  wish  it  could  be  arranged 
for  you  to  come  and  see  my  big  new  toy.  I  was  pretty  sure  you 
would  like  it,  for  I  felt  —  though  you  never  told  me  so  —  that 
you  cared  a  great  deal  for  beautiful  and  romantic  things. 

The  Chateau  Lontana  in  its  poetic  wilderness  of  garden  is 
both  romantic  and  beautiful.  You  could  never  manage  to  come; 
but  that  doesn't  matter  now,  if  I  may  think  of  you  there  when 
the  place  is  yours.  Of  course  I  may  hang  on  in  this  weary  vale 
for  years,  but  I  hope  not,  because  (as  I've  mentioned  more  than 
once)  even  if  I  haven't  outstayed  my  welcome,  I'm  getting  more 
than  a  little  tired  of  the  entertainment  provided  by  that  "host 
who  murders  all  his  guests"  —  the  World. 

If  I  should  drop  off  suddenly,  you  will  find  my  will  in  the  hands 
of  Signer  Antonio  Nicolini,  via  Roma,  Ventimiglia.  He's  a  nice 
little  Italian  lawyer  whom  I've  made  my  man  of  business  lately. 
He  has  all  my  affairs  in  charge.  It  will  be  the  greatest  favour 
and  kindness  you  can  do  me,  if  you  will  take  this  house  I  loved 
but  never  lived  in.  This  I  hope  you  will  do  for  my  sake  —  the 
sake  of  a  friend.  You  know  you  promised  that  day  at  the  Rochers 
Rouges  to  grant  me  a  favour,  and  I  hold  you  to  your  word. 
Another  request  I  venture  to  make,  you  must  grant  only  if  you 
don't  find  the  idea  repugnant.  It  oughtn't  to  matter  much  to 
me  one  way  or  the  other,  and  it  shall  be  as  you  choose,  but  I 
should  like  when  my  body's  cremated  (that  is  to  be  done  in  any 


494     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

case)  to  have  my  ashes  lie  at  the  south  end  of  the  garden,  where 
some  steps  are  cut  in  the  rock  coming  out  at  a  wonderful  view- 
point. If  after  death  one  can  see  what  goes  on  in  this  world,  it 
would  console  me  for  much  to  know  of  your  coming  sometimes 
to  the  Chateau  Lontana,  and  perhaps  sitting  on  that  old  stone 
seat  on  the  rock-platform  at  the  bottom  of  those  steps.  There  is 
a  wall  of  rock  above  the  seat,  and  if  a  small  niche  could  be  cut 
there  for  an  urn,  with  a  tablet  of  marble  to  mark  the  spot,  it 
would  please  my  fancy.  Should  you  decide  to  gratify  the  whim, 
please  have  no  name  carved  on  the  marble,  but  only  a  verse  you 
quoted  that  day  at  the  Rochers  Rouges.  I  think  you  told  me  it 
was  by  a  Scottish  poet,  whom  you  liked;  and  I  said  the  words  had 
in  them  a  strange  undertone  of  music  like  a  lullaby:  the  sound 
of  the  sea,  and  the  sadness  and  mystery  of  the  sea.  You  will 
remember.  It  was  after  luncheon  was  over,  but  we  were  still 
at  the  table,  and  you  sat  with  your  elbow  on  the  low  wall,  look- 
ing down  into  the  water. 

You  are  not  to  suppose,  though,  that  because  I  speak  of  the 
sadness  of  the  sea,  I  am  sad  in  the  thought  that  soon  I  may  be 
gone  where  I  can  no  longer  hear  its  voice.  I  am  not  sad,  and 
you  must  not  be  sad  either  at  my  talk  of  dying,  or  at  my  death 
when  it  comes.  Think  of  me,  but  not  with  sadness.  Do  not 
come  to  see  my  body  before  it's  given  to  the  burning:  do  not 
come  to  my  funeral.  I  don't  want  a  funeral,  for  though  I  am 
not  without  a  religion  of  my  own,  it's  one  that  does  not  lend 
itself  to  ceremonies.  As  for  the  mystery  of  the  sea,  it  and  all 
other  mysteries  which  are  hidden  from  us  now  will  soon,  I  trust, 
be  clear  to 

Your  ever  loyal,  faithful  friend, 

JOHN  HANNAFORD. 

Long  before  she  reached  the  end  tears  were  rain- 
ing down  Mary's  face.  She  could  not  read  the  letter 
aloud,  yet  she  wanted  the  others  to  know  what 
Hannaford  had  said.  On  an  impulse  she  handed  the 
closely  covered  sheet  to  Mrs.  Winter. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     495 

Rose  took  the  letter,  and  read  it  out,  not  quite 
steadily.  For  a  few  seconds  no  one  spoke,  when  she 
had  finished.  But  at  last  she  asked  in  a  veiled  voice 
what  was  the  verse  Hannaford  wished  to  have  on  the 
tablet.  The  question  seemed  to  Mary  the  only  one 
she  could  have  answered  at  that  moment. 

Almost  in  a  whisper  she  began  to  repeat  the  verse 
of  Fiona  Macleod,  for  which,  she  remembered, 
Hannaford  had  begged  twice  over,  as  they  two  sat 
on  the  palm-roofed  terrace  built  over  the  sea: 

"'Play  me  a  lulling  chant,  O  Anthem-Maker, 

Out  of  the  fall  of  lonely  seas  and  the  wind's  sorrow. 
Behind  are  the  burning  glens  of  the  sunset  sky 
Where,  like  blown  ghosts,  the  seamews 
Wail  their  desolate  sea  dirges. 
Make  now  of  these  a  lulling  chant, 
O  Anthem-Maker.'" 

"That  is  all?"  asked  George  Winter. 

"That  is  all,"  Mary  echoed. 

"I  think  I  understand  why  a  man  might  want 
just  those  words  for  a  last  lullaby,"  Vanno  said. 
"You'll  do  as  he  asks,  I  know,  Mary,  about  the  urn 
and  the  tablet  with  the  verse,  and  going  there  to  sit 
and  think  of  him  sometimes." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will  do  that,"  she  replied  quickly. 
"But  —  I  don't  think  I  can  do  the  other  thing.  I 
cant  live  in  his  house.  Anyway,  I  can't  live  in  it 

with  you,  Vanno.  It  would  be "  She  did  not 

finish.  To  have  ended  the  sentence  would  have 
been  the  same  as  telling  Hannaford's  secret, 


496     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"  I  understand,"  Vanno  said.  But  it  was  in  Mary's 
mind  that  he  did  not  and  could  not  wholly  under- 
stand. She  did  not  even  want  him  to  understand. 
"You  needn't  live  there,"  he  went  on.  "Yet  you 
can  visit  the  place  sometimes,  from  our  '  castle  in  the 
air';  and  maybe  we  can  think  of  a  way  to  use  the 
house,  if  you  accept  it,  which  Hannaford  would 
approve." 

"You  can  hardly  refuse  to  accept  it  now  Captain 
Hannaford  is  dead,"  said  Rose.  "Not  to  do  what  he 
so  much  hoped  you  would  do  for  his  sake  would  be 
—  almost  treacherous." 

.  "  Yes,  it  seems  to  me  you're  bound  to  take  his  gift," 
George  Winter  added.  "If  you  don't  want  to  live 
in  the  house,  why  not  make  it  a  home  of  rest  for 
women  workers  who  are  tired  or  ill,  and  need  a  few 
weeks  of  warmth  and  sunshine,  but  can't  afford  even 
cheap  pension  prices?" 

"Next  season  we  might  get  up  a  bazaar  to  support 
such  a  home,"  Rose  suggested,  warming  to  the 
scheme. 

"Perhaps  I  could  support  it  myself,"  Mary  said, 
"if  Vanno  would  consent.  I  haven't  lost  much  more 
than  my  Casino  winnings,  and  I  should  like  to  do 
some  one  good.  I've  ever  so  much  money  of  my 
own.  I  know  very  little  about  such  things,  but  I 
believe  I  must  be  quite  rich.  And  then  there's  the 
jewellery  I've  bought  since  I  came  here.  I've  lost 
interest  in  it  already.  I  could  sell  some  to  help  the 
Home,  couldn't  I?  The  only  things  I  really  care 
for  are  the  pearls,  which  I  have  on  now  under  my 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     497 

dress;  and  the  rest  I  mean  to  leave  with  you,  Mrs. 
Winter,  if  you  don't  mind,  instead  of  troubling  to  take 
the  jewel-case  over  to  the  Villa  Mirasole." 

"Of  course  I  don't  mind,"  Rose  said,  "except  that 
it's  a  responsibility.  However,  thieves  aren't  look- 
ing for 'big hauls' in  parsons' houses.  I'll  store  the 
jewel-case  with  pleasure;  but  you  must  keep  the  key 
of  the  cabinet,  lest  you  should  want  to  open  it 
some  day  when  I  am  out." 

Then  they  went  back  to  the  subject  of  the  Chateau 
Lontana,  planning  how  to  carry  out  Hannaford's 
wishes,  even  though  Mary  felt  it  would  be  impossible 
to  live  in  the  house.  George  Winter  volunteered 
to  arrange  all  details  concerning  the  funeral  urn  and 
the  placing  of  the  tablet,  because  he  had  learned  to 
feel  an  affection  for  Mary  Grant  which  was  almost 
that  of  a  brother  for  a  very  young  and  beautiful 
sister.  He  wanted  her,  in  spite  of  all,  to  be  happy  in 
her  visit  to  Princess  Delia  Robbia,  happy  as  she 
could  not  be  if  constantly  reminded  of  Hannaford 
and  his  tragedy.  He  offered  also  to  see  the  lawyer 
at  Ventimiglia,  so  that  Vanno,  who  proposed  soon 
to  go  to  Rome,  might  spend  his  time  meanwhile  at 
the  Villa  Mirasole. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  the  chaplain  said  at  last.  "It 
is  but  little  I'm  engaging  myself  to  do.  And  it's 
as  much  for  Hannaford's  sake  as  yours.  Poor 
Hannaford!  I  didn't  do  half  enough  for  him  when 
he  was  alive.  I  feel  as  if  I  owed  him  something 
now." 

Mary  did  not  speak,  but  she  shivered  and  very 


498     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

gently  drew  her  hand  away  from  Vanno's.  She  too 
felt  that  she  owed  Hannaford  reparation,  not  for 
what  she  had  left  undone  during  his  life,  but  rather 
for  what  she  had  done.  She  had  taken  his  friend- 
ship, his  kindness,  his  sympathy,  and  given  him 
nothing  in  return  except  a  little  pity  following  upon 
repulsion.  And  she  dared  not  ask  herself  how  far 
her  thoughtlessness  was  answerable  for  his  death. 


XXXII 

"A  LETTER  for  the  Highness  and  one  waits  for 
answer,"  announced  Americo,  with  the  air  of  pre- 
senting a  choice  gift,  as  he  bowed  to  the  Princess  over 
a  small  silver  tray. 

She  was  lying  among  the  red  cushions  of  her  fa- 
vourite hammock  on  the  loggia.  Beside  her  in  a 
basket  chair  was  Angelo,  with  a  book  in  his  hand 
which  he  did  not  read,  because  when  Marie  was  near 
him  everything  else  seemed  irrelevant.  Not  far 
away  Mary  sat,  writing  a  letter  to  Vanno  which 
ought  to  reach  him  the  next  morning.  Yesterday 
at  five  o'clock  she  had  seen  him  off  in  the  Rome 
express;  and  before  this  time  he  must  have  ar- 
rived. 

"Idina  Eland's  hand,"  said  Angelo,  as  his  wife 
took  a  large  gray  envelope  from  the  silver  tray. 

"  I  wonder But  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence. 

To  do  so  would  have  been  superfluous,  as  in  a 
moment  he  would  know  what  Idina  was  writing 
about;  and,  besides,  Angelo  shrank  curiously  - 
perhaps  foolishly,  he  sometimes  felt  —  from  speak- 
ing of  Idina  Bland  or  even  mentioning  her  name  to 
Marie.  He  was  not  superstitious,  or  at  least,  he  told 
himself  often  that  he  was  not;  yet  the  very  thought 
of  his  cousin  depressed  him  as  if  she  were  a  witch 

499 


500     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

who  from  any  distance  could  cast  a  spell  of  ill-luck 
upon  a  house. 

Marie  had  no  suspicion  of  Angelo's  feeling  for 
Miss  Bland.  She  knew  from  him  that  there  had 
been  a  "boy  and  girl  flirtation"  when  Idina  had  first 
come  to  stay  at  the  Duke's  country  place  years 
ago;  and  there  was  enough  malice  in  her  to  enjoy 
the  idea  of  a  defeated  rival's  jealousy.  For  this 
reason  she  had  found  a  certain  pleasure  in  Idina's 
few  visits  to  the  Villa  Mirasole,  though  the  pale 
"statue-eyes"  had  been  cold  as  glass  for  her.  If  Idina 
disliked  her  a  little,  Marie  had  considered  it  natural, 
and  had  been  secretly  amused,  saying  nothing  to 
Angelo. 

"Miss  Bland  writes  that  an  American  friend  of  hers 
has  come  to  stay  a  day  or  two  only,  and  she'd  like 
very  much  to  have  her  meet  us  and  see  the  villa," 
Marie  announced,  glancing  through  the  short  letter. 
"She  wants  to  know  if  we'd  mind  asking  them  to 
lunch  to-day.  I  suppose  we  don't  mind,  do  we?" 
She  held  the  gray  sheet  out  to  Angelo,  but  he  did 
not  take  it. 

"I  suppose  not,"  he  answered  reluctantly.  "But 
it's  a  bore  having  a  stranger  thrust  on  us.  Why 
not  be  engaged  for  luncheon  and  invite  them  for 
tea?" 

Marie  laughed.  "Selfish  man!  I  know  what's 
in  your  head.  You'd  go  out  and  leave  Mary  and  me 
to  entertain  your  dear  cousin  and  her  friend.  No,  I 
won't  have  Miss  Bland  think  I'm  jealous  or  inhos- 
pitable —  for  of  course  she'd  blame  me.  She  knows 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     501 

we  never  go  out  for  luncheon.  Unfortunately  I  told 
her.  I'll  write  a  line  to  send  back  by  her  messenger, 
to  say  lunch  by  all  means." 

"Very  well,  if  you  think  you  must."  Angelo 
spoke  with  gloomy  resignation. 

"Dear  Mary,  you  write,"  said  Marie  lazily. 
"  You've  got  paper  and  a  stylo,  and  she  doesn't  know 
my  hand.  I'm  too  comfortable  to  move." 

Mary  put  aside  her  letter  to  Vanno  which  must 
catch  the  next  post,  and  scribbled  a  few  lines  to 
Miss  Bland. 

"Will  you  sign  if  I  bring  you  the  pen?"  she  asked. 

"No,  thanks.  I  give  you  leave  to  forge  my  name. 
It  will  soon  be  your  own,  so  you  may  as  well  practise 
writing  it,"  said  Marie.  "Just  put  the  initial  'M.": 

The  girl  obeyed.  "M.  Delia  Robbia,"  she  wrote, 
forming  the  letters  almost  lovingly.  How  strange 
to  think  that  before  long  that  would  be  her  own 
name!  Mary  Delia  Robbia!  The  sound  was  very 
sweet  to  her,  though  to  be  a  princess  was  of  no  great 
importance.  If  Vanno  were  a  peasant,  to  become 
his  wife  would  make  her  a  queen. 

When  the  answer  was  ready,  Americo  received  it 
upon  his  little  tray. 

"Two  ladies  for  luncheon,  you  may  tell  the  chef," 
said  Marie. 

"All  right,  Highness.  And  other  Highness,  I  was 
to  make  you  know  from  the  gardener,  one  fox  have 
bin  catched  in  a  trap  on  the  way  to  eat  the  rabbits 
of  the  semaphore.  If  the  Highness  wish  to  visit 
him,  he  is  there  for  this  morning." 


502     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"One  would  think  it  was  an  invitation  for  an  'At 
Home,'"  laughed  Marie  behind  the  butler's  broad 
back,  as  he  vanished  with  the  letter,  through  the 
window-door.  "Fancy,  foxes  in  the  woods  of  Cap 
Martin,  within  four  miles  of  Monte  Carlo!  They 
ought  to  be  extra  cunning." 

"They  must  be,"  said  Angelo,  "to  keep  out  of 
sight  as  they  do  in  the  Season,  and  yet  manage  to 
snatch  a  meal  of  rabbit  or  chicken  occasionally.  I 
think  I'll  stroll  over  to  the  semaphore  and  have  a 
look  at  the  gentleman,  as  I  could  hardly  believe  our 
gardener  the  other  day  when  he  swore  there  were 
foxes  and  hares  in  the  woods." 

"Don't  get  too  interested,  and  forget  to  come  and 
receive  your  dear  cousin  and  her  American  friend, 
who  for  all  you  know  may  be  the  most  fascinating 
woman  in  the  world,"  Marie  called  after  her  husband 
as  he  walked  away. 

His  smile  named  the  woman  who  was  above  all 
others  for  him;  and  though  Marie  knew  herself  his 
goddess,  she  never  ceased  to  crave  the  assurance. 

When  Angelo  had  found  his  Panama  and  gone 
down  the  loggia  steps  into  the  garden,  she  laughed  a 
soft  and  happy  laugh.  "Poor  darling!"  she  said. 
"The  fox  is  an  excuse.  He  won't  come  back  till  the 
last  minute.  One  would  think  he  was  afraid  of  his 
cousin!  It's  quite  pathetic.  Just  because  he  had 
an  innocent  flirtation  with  her  a  hundred  years  ago." 

Marie  picked  up  Idina's  letter,  which  lay  in  the 
hammock.  "I  wonder  what  a  graphologist  —  if 
that's  the  right  word  —  would  make  of  this  hand- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     503 

writing?  I'm  no  expert.  But  to  me  the  writing 
expresses  the  woman  as  I  see  her:  heavy,  strong, 
intelligent,  lacking  all  charm  of  sex,  and  selfishly 
cold." 

"Do  you  think  Miss  Bland  cold?"  asked  Mary. 
"I've  seen  her  only  once,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  be 
a  judge  of  character.  Yet  I  had  a  queer  thought 
about  her  when  we  met:  that  she  was  like  a  volcano 
under  snow." 

The  Princess  did  not  answer,  for  the  character  of 
Idina  being  of  little  importance  to  her,  she  had 
already  begun  to  think  of  something  else.  She  was 
comfortably  glad  to  be  younger  and  far,  far  more 
attractive  than  Miss  Bland.  She  was  resolving  that, 
before  the  two  guests  arrived,  she  would  put  on  a 
particularly  becoming  dress  in  order  that  the  heroine 
of  the  old  flirtation  might  more  keenly  than  ever  envy 
Angelo's  wife.  This  idea  she  did  not  clothe  def- 
initely in  words,  but  it  floated  in  her  mind. 
"Miss  Bland  must  have  come  down  from  the  An- 
nonciata,  to  lurk  about  Mentone  waiting  for  my 
answer,"  she  said  aloud,  having  reread  the  note. 
"Otherwise  she  wouldn't  have  time  to  arrive  here 
for  lunch  at  one,  after  her  messenger  got  back." 

It  was  now  Mary's  turn  to  be  inattentive,  for  she 
was  adding  a  postscript  to  her  letter,  which  but  for 
that  addition  she  had  finished. 

"Marie  dreamed  of  pigeons  last  night,"  she  scrib- 
bled hastily.  "She  is  superstitious  about  them,  and 
says  they  mean  trouble  and  parting.  That  seems 
rather  funny  to  me,  after  the  hundreds  I  saw  in 


504     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Monte  Carlo  and  made  friends  with,  and  fed  every 
day.  I'm  glad  I  am  not  superstitious,  especially 
now  that  you  and  I  are  separated.  How  glorious 
it  is  to  feel  quite  sure  that  our  parting  is  only  for  a 
few  days,  instead  of  forever,  like  that  of  our  poor 
lovers  of  'Remember  eternal.'  It  was  dear  of  you 
to  have  those  words  engraved  inside  the  ring  you 
gave  me.  I  love  the  quaint  English.  And  it  is  like  a 
secret  which  belongs  only  to  us  out  of  all  the  world." 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  Princess,  after  she  had  tried 
in  vain  to  attract  Mary's  notice,  "as  you're  so  de- 
lightfully occupied,  I  may  as  well  remove  myself  and 
leave  you  in  peace.  In  less  than  an  hour  the  fair 
Idina  will  be  upon  us;  and  I'm  going  upstairs  now  to 
make  myself  as  pretty  as  Angelo  thinks  me,  to  do 
honour  to  his  cousin.  By  the  way,  it's  our  first 
luncheon  party,  not  counting  you  and  Vanno  and 
the  cure." 

She  slid  out  of  the  red  hammock,  showing  slim 
ankles  that  gleamed  like  marble  through  a  thin  film 
of  bronze-brown  silk.  As  she  went  into  the  house 
humming  some  Italian  air  she  had  picked  up,  Mary 
thought  how  young  and  innocently  gay  she  seemed. 
It  was  almost  impossible  to  believe  her  the  same 
woman  who  had  sobbed  behind  a  disguising  veil  in 
Rose  Winter's  drawing-room,  begging  Mary  to  swear 
by  Vanno's  love  never  to  betray  her  secret.  And 
it  seemed  equally  incredible  that  this  mirthful  and 
charming  girl  could  have  such  a  secret  to  hide. 
Mary  tried  to  forget.  It  was  a  kind  of  treachery  to 
remember  those  tears,  and  the  reason  for  them  which 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     505 

Angelo  must  not  know.  To  change  her  thoughts, 
Mary  sprang  up  swiftly,  and,  calling  Angelo's  Per- 
sian, dog  Miro  —  a  lovely  white  creature  like  a  float- 
ing plume  —  she  went  out  through  the  woods  with 
her  letter  for  Vanno,  meaning  to  take  a  short  cut 
among  the  olives,  to  a  branch  post-office  not  far  off. 

As  she  returned  a  few  minutes  later,  two  women 
walking  at  a  distance  under  the  great  silvery  arbour 
watched  her  run  by  with  the  Persian  dog. 

"That's  the  girl  I  told  you  about,  who  is  going  to 
marry  my  cousin  Giovanni,  Prince  Delia  Robbia's 
younger  brother,"  said  Idina  Bland  to  her  compan- 
ion; "the  Miss  Grant  who  has  been  so  much  talked 
about  here."  Idina  had  a  contralto  voice,  with 
tones  in  it  almost  as  deep  as  those  of  a  very  young 
man.  It  was  musical,  and  gave  an  effect  of  careful 
training,  as  if  she  had  studied  voice-production  and 
had  become  self-conscious  through  over-practising. 

"It's  strange,  the  resemblance  in  those  names," 
the  other  woman  murmured,  almost  as  if  speaking 
to  herself.  She  was  small  and  extremely  thin,  with 
insignificant  features  and  sallow,  slightly  freckled 
complexion.  But,  though  she  was  one  of  those 
women  who  might  be  of  any  age  between  twenty- 
eight  and  forty,  her  piercing  gray  eyes  under  black 
eyebrows,  her  quivering  nostrils  and  slightly  pointed 
chin,  gave  her  a  look  of  intense  vitality.  She  was 
like  a  powerful  if  small  electric  lamp,  purposely 
veiled  by  a  dun-coloured  shade.  "It's  doubly 

strange,  because" she  went  on;  then  let  her 

voice  trail  away  into  silence  rather  than  break  off 


506     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

abruptly.     She  had  a  slight  accent  suggesting  the 
Middle  West  of  America. 

"Because  —  what?"  Miss  Bland  caught  her  up 
with  impatience. 

The  other  deliberated  before  answering.  Then 
she  replied:  "I'd  rather  not  say  anything  more 
yet.  I  may  be  mistaken  —  very  likely  am.  Wait 
until  I've  seen  your  Princess  and  this  girl  together. 
Then  —  probably  I  shall  know." 

Idina  Bland  glanced  at  her  angrily,  and  opened  her 
lips,  but  closed  them  again,  and  in  silence  began  to 
walk  on  toward  the  Villa  Mirasole.  The  neat  little 
figure  of  her  friend  in  its  khaki-brown  tailor-made 
dress  kept  up  with  her  briskly.  The  bright  eyes 
fixed  themselves  for  an  instant  on  Miss  Eland's 
sullen  profile,  and  twinkled  as  they  turned  away.  It 
was  as  if  she  enjoyed  the  knowledge  that  Idina  was 
afraid  to  show  impatience,  as  a  small,  intelligent 
animal  often  revels  in  dominating  one  that  is  larger 
and  more  important  in  its  own  estimation. 

When  Mary  returned  to  the  loggia  to  gather  up 
the  writing  materials  she  had  left  there,  the  Princess 
had  come  back, wearing  a  gown  which  Mary  had  never 
seen.  It  was  a  silky  white  taffeta  over  yellow,  and 
as  she  moved  light  seemed  to  run  through  the  folds 
like  liquid  gold. 

"'Clothed  in  samite,  mystic,  wonderful,'"  Mary 
quoted. 

"This  is  Angelo's  favourite  frock,"  said  Marie. 
"He  thinks"    -her  tone  changed  to  bitterness  - 
"that  I  look  like  a  saint  in  it.' 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  507 

Mary  made  no  comment.  She  felt  that  Marie 
was  commanding  her  to  silence.  But  it  was  true: 
this  gleaming  dress  with  its  white  and  golden  lights, 
and  a  filmy  fichu  crossed  meekly  over  the  breast, 
gave  Marie  a  look  of  sweet  and  virginal  innocence. 
Her  head,  on  the  long  white  throat  rising  out  of  the 
pointed  folds,  seemed  delicately  balanced  as  an 
aigrette. 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  be  able  to  hold  my  own 
against  the  lovely  ladies  who  are  coming?"  she 
asked  lightly,  snatching  up  her  sleigh-bell  gayety 
again. 

"I  feel  sure  you  will,"  Mary  replied  in  the  same 
tone.  Just  then  they  faintly  heard  the  electric  bell 
which  told  that  the  guests  had  arrived,  earlier  than 
expected.  Afterward  Mary  often  remembered  this 
question  of  the  Princess'  and  her  own  answer. 

Americo  brought  Miss  Bland  and  her  friend  out 
to  the  loggia,  which  was  the  living-room  of  the  family 
in  warm,  sunny  weather.  He  announced  the  two 
names  with  elaborate  unintelligibility,  but  Idina  at 
once  introduced  her  companion  as  Miss  Jewett  of 
St.  Louis.  "We  met  when  I  was  in  America,"  she 
explained.  "Now  she's  'doing'  Europe  in  a  few 
weeks,  cramming  in  enough  sightseeing  for  an  Eng- 
lishman's year." 

"We're  very  flattered  to  be  included  among  the 
sights,"  Marie  said,  smiling,  but  with  something  of 
the  "princess"  air  which  —  perhaps  unconsciously  — 
she  always  put  on  with  her  husband's  cousin.  Miss 
Jewett,  making  some  polite  and  formal  little  answer, 


508     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

gazed  with  glittering  intentness  at  her  hostess  and 
Mary  Grant.  Her  eyes,  in  the  thin,  sallow  face  with 
its  pointed  chin,  were  so  brilliantly  intelligent  that 
they  seemed  to  have  a  life  and  individuality  of  their 
own,  separate  from  the  rest  of  her  small  body. 

"Where's  Angelo?"  asked  Idina,  when  they  had 
talked  for  a  little  while,  and  she  had  apologized  for 
being  too  early. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry  he  isn't  at  home!"  Marie  ex- 
claimed, enjoying  the  blank  disappointment  that 
dulled  Idina's  expression.  When  she  had  produced 
her  effect,  she  added  that  Angelo  would  come  back 
in  time  for  luncheon.  Miss  Bland  turned  her  face 
away  and  looked  down  at  a  fountain  on  the  terrace 
below  the  loggia.  Fierceness  flashed  out  of  her  like 
a  knife  unsheathed;  but  the  back  of  her  blond  head, 
with  its  conventional  dressing  of  the  hair  under  a 
neat  toque,  was  almost  singularly  non-committal. 

Marie  went  on  to  make  conversation  about  the 
fox  Angelo  had  gone  to  see,  laughingly  describing 
the  "fauna"  of  Cap  Martin,  of  which  season  visitors 
knew  little.  "They  say,  as  soon  as  everybody's 
well  out  of  the  way,  the  most  wonderful  birds  and 
flowers  appear,  that  only  scientific  people  can  tell 
anything  about,"  she  informed  her  visitors.  Miss 
Jewett  listened  with  interest  and  asked  questions; 
but  a  curtain  seemed  to  have  been  lowered  behind 
Idina's  eyes,  shutting  her  mind  away  from  outside 
things. 

In  the  yellow  drawing-room  a  clock  tinkled  out  a 
tune,  finishing  with  one  sharp  stroke;  and  Americo 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     509 

hovered  uncertainly  at  the  door-window  of  the  big 
hall,  seeing  that  his  master  was  not  with  the  ladies 
on  the  loggia. 

"We  must  wait  a  few  minutes,  Americo,"  Marie 
said  calmly;  but  at  the  same  moment  Angelo  ap- 
peared on  the  fountain  terrace,  and  came  quickly  up 
the  loggia  steps.  He  shook  hands  with  Idina  and 
greeted  Miss  Jewett  with  the  grave,  pleasant  courtesy 
that  was  not  unlike  Vanno's,  but  colder  and  more 
remote,  except  with  those  for  whom  he  really  cared. 

Mary  wondered  if  Miss  Bland  felt  the  chill  of  his 
manner. 

They  went  in  to  luncheon,  and  the  conversation 
was  of  abstract  things.  If  once  or  twice  it  seemed 
that  Idina  wished  to  turn  the  talk  to  old  days  which 
had  given  memories  in  common  to  her  and  Angelo, 
the  Prince  checked  her  quietly  by  asking  some  ques- 
tion about  Ireland  or  America.  And  it  struck  Mary, 
who  was  feeling  vaguely  sorry  for  this  cousin  held  at 
arm's  length,  that  Miss  Jewett  watched  Idina  with 
interest  and  even  curiosity,  as  if  she  were  waiting  for 
her  to  do  or  say  something  in  particular. 

At  last  the  Princess  rose,  smiling  at  Miss  Bland. 
"Shall  we  have  coffee  on  the  loggia?"  she  asked. 

"We  should  both  like  that,  shouldn't  we,  Miss 
Jewett?"  Idina  said,  with  almost  unnecessary  em- 
phasis. As  she  spoke,  she  looked  at  her  friend. 

Angelo  opened  the  door  for  them  to  pass  out,  and 
it  was  evident  that  he  did  not  mean  to  follow  at  once. 
Seeing  his  intention,  Idina  stopped.  "Aren't  you 
coming  with  us,  Angelo?"  she  asked. 


510     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I  thought  of  smoking  a  cigar  and  joining  you 
later,"  he  answered. 

"Please  come,"  she  said.  "Miss  Jewett  and  I 
won't  be  staying  long;  and  I'm  leaving  with  her 
to-morrow.  I've  only  been  hanging  on  here  for  her 
to  arrive.  Nothing  else  would  have  kept  me  so 
long." 

"I  will  come  with  pleasure,"  Angelo  said.  "My 
cigar  can  wait." 

"Doesn't  your  wife  let  you  smoke  when  you're 
with  her?"  Idina  asked  sharply. 

"Of  course  I  let  him!"  exclaimed  Marie,  "though 
sometimes  on  the  loggia  he  won't  if  the  wind  blows 
the  smoke  in  our  faces.  To-day  there's  no  wind, 
and  we'll  all  smoke  except  Mary,  who  hates  it. 
I'm  sure  you're  more  modern?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  too  am  old-fashioned,"  said  Idina. 

"And  I'm  too  nervous,"  added  her  friend. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Angelo  smoke  to-day,"  Idina 
went  on.  "It  will  remind  me  of  old  times.  There's 
a  balcony  at  Monte  Delia  Robbia  where  we  used  to 
sit  by  moonlight  sometimes,  and  while  Angelo 
smoked  I  told  him  Irish  fairy  stories  which  he  loved 
to  hear.  He  was  romantic  and  poetic  in  those  days. 
Now  I  have  another  story  to  tell  —  not  a  fairy  story 
this  time.  Still,  it's  quite  interesting.  At  least,  I 
think  it  is,  and  I  want  to  see  whether  you  agree  with 
me  —  especially  Angelo." 

He  gazed  at  her  questioningly  as  she  sat  down  on 
a  sofa  opposite  to  him.  He  stood  with  his  back 
against  a  marble  pillar,  and  in  his  eyes  was  the  look 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     511 

that  comes  to  the  eyes  of  a  lion  teased  by  a  boy  whom 
he  cannot  reach  through  the  bars  of  his  cage. 

"It's  a  story  in  which  Miss  Jewett's  been  collab- 
orating with  me,"  Idina  continued.  "Between  us 
we've  brought  it  to  a  fine  point.  I  couldn't  go  on  a 
step  more  till  she  came.  You  can  imagine  how  tired 
I  was  of  waiting,  for  I  wanted  to  be  at  work.  Now 
we've  gathered  up  all  our  threads." 

The  baited  look  faded  from  Angelo's  eyes.  "  You're 
writing  a  novel  together?"  he  asked,  smiling  faintly. 

"We've  been  piecing  together  a  plot  which  might 
make  a  novel,"  said  Idina.  "That's  why  I  wanted 
you  to  come  out  with  us,  instead  of  smoking  your 
cigar  in  the  house.  I'd  like  to  tell  the  story  and  see 
what  you  think  of  it,  because  I  believe  you  are  a  very 
good  judge.  And  a  man's  opinion  of  such  things  is 
always  valuable.  But  please  smoke!  I  won't  begin 
till  you  do.  I  want  that  reminder  of  old  times  to 
give  me  inspiration." 

Angelo,  entirely  at  his  ease  now,  though  still 
slightly  bored,  lit  his  cigar.  The  pillar  against  which 
he  leaned  was  close  to  Marie's  red  hammock.  He 
could  look  down  at  her  while  he  smoked,  and  as  she 
swung  back  and  forth  her  dress  all  but  brushed  his 
knee. 

"Our  heroine  is  an  English  girl,  or  perhaps  Scot- 
tish, we  haven't  decided  which,"  Idina  began  in  her 
deep  voice.  "She's  pretty,  fascinating  to  men,  in 
fact  a  man's  woman.  To  other  women  she  is  a  cat. 
And  she's  by  nature  as  deceitful  as  all  creatures  of 
the  cat  tribe." 


512     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Why  take  such  a  person  for  your  heroine?" 
Angelo  wanted  to  know. 

"She's  thrust  upon  us  by  the  exigencies  of  the 
story.  And,  besides  —  why,  Angelo,  if  you  could 
meet  the  girl  as  I  see  her  in  real  life,  you'd  admire 
her  beyond  anything!  She  would  be  exactly  your 
style.  You,  being  a  man,  wouldn't  know  that  she 
was  deceitful  and  a  cat." 

"I'm  sure  I  should  know,"  he  protested,  with  an 
involuntary  glance  at  Marie,  so  saintlike  and  virginal 
in  her  meekly  fichued  dress.  "You've  just  said  that 
you  considered  me  a  good  judge." 

"Not  of  a  woman's  character,  but  of  what  ought  to 
happen  to  the  heroine  of  our  story  in  the  end,"  Idina 
explained.  "That's  what  I  meant.  You  must  give 
us  the  end  of  the  story.  But  I'll  go  on.  The  girl  - 
our  heroine  —  comes  upon  the  scene  first  at  a  con- 
vent-school in  Scotland." 

Idina  paused  for  an  instant,  as  if  taking  thought 
how  to  go  on.  •  The  faint  creaking  of  the  hammock 
chains  abruptly  ceased.  Mary  glanced  across  at 
her  friend,  but  Princess  Delia  Robbia  had  stopped 
swinging  only  to  lean  forward  and  stroke  the  beauti- 
ful Persian  dog  Miro,  who  had  come  up  the  steps. 
She  put  an  arm  round  his  neck  and  bent  her  head 
over  him.  Though  he  adored  his  master  exclusively, 
he  tolerated  the  new  member  of  the  family,  and 
yielded  himself  reservedly  to  her  caress. 

"It  must  be  a  coincidence  about  the  convent," 
Mary  told  herself.  Why  should  Miss  Bland  wish 
to  torture  Angelo's  wife,  even  if  she  knew  anything? 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     513 

And  she  could  not  know.  It  was  impossible  that  she 
should  know.  But  suddenly  the  girl  remembered 
Marie's  hints  about  a  long-ago  flirtation  between  the 
cousins.  And  Idina's  manner  had  been  odd  when  she 
begged  Angelo  to  smoke  because  of  old  times.  A 
dreadful  idea  opened  a  door  in  Mary's  mind  and 
leered  at  her,  with  the  wicked  eyes  of  a  face  seen  in 
a  nightmare,  vague,  yet  growing  larger  and  drawing 
inevitably  near.  She  felt  helpless  and  frozen  as  in 
a  nightmare  too;  for  she  could  do  nothing  to  rescue 
Marie,  if  need  arose.  To  stop  Idina  somehow  might 
be  possible,  yet  surely  that  would  do  more  harm 
than  good.  To  show  fear  would  be  to  acknowledge 
cause  for  fear.  Yet  at  this  moment  of  suspense 
Mary  would  have  given  her  right  hand  to  be  cut  off, 
if  that  could  have  saved  her  friend. 

"Our  heroine  is  the  last  person  who  ought  to  be 
put  into  a  convent-school,"  Idina  went  on,  "for  she 
cares  more  about  flirting  and  fun  and  intrigue  than 
anything  else.  Being  shut  up  with  a  lot  of  girls  and 
religious  women  bores  her  dreadfully,  and  after  she's 
been  there  for  a  while  she  looks  round  for  a  little 
amusement.  The  pupils  are  allowed  to  go  out 
sometimes,  and  she  meets  a  man  who's  staying  in  a 
big  country-house  near  by.  He  looks  at  her,  and  she 
looks  back  at  him.  That  settles  everything.  He 
contrives  to  find  out  her  name.  Men  are  clever 
about  such  things.  Then  he  begins  smuggling  letters 
for  the  girl  into  the  convent.  She  consents  to  see 
him  in  the  garden  at  night,  if  he  can  climb  over  the 
wall,  or  manage  to  get  in  somehow.  He  does  man- 


514     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

age  it.  All  this  appeals  to  her  vanity  and  love  of 
intrigue.  She  has  a  new  interest  in  life  —  and  a 
secret.  They  have  these  night  meetings  often.  By 
and  by  the  man  begs  the  girl  to  run  away  with  him. 
He  says  he  will  marry  her  at  once,  of  course.  He's 
good-looking  and  seems  to  be  rich;  and  he's  staying 
in  the  house  of  a  Lord  Somebody  or  Other,  so  she 
thinks  he  must  be  of  importance  in  the  world.  She 
herself  is  —  just  nobody,  with  hardly  a  penny  of  her 
own,  and  only  distant  relatives  who've  put  her  in 
the  convent  to  get  rid  of  the  bother  she  made  them. 
But  when  our  heroine  has  escaped  in  the  most 
romantic  fashion  with  her  lover,  she  soon  discovers 
that  he  can't  marry  her,  even  if  he  wished,  for  he  has 
a  wife  already.  And  it's  the  wife  who  owns  all  the 
money.  They  don't  live  together,  but  they  are 
quite  good  friends,  he  and  his  wife,  who's  a  common 
sort  of  person,  a  beer-heiress  or  something  like  that. 
What  do  you  think  of  our  story  so  far,  Angelo?  Isn't 
it  a  good  plot?" 

Angelo  had  been  smoking  continuously  as  his 
cousin  talked,  sending  out  little  quick  puffs  of  smoke 
which,  to  those  who  knew  him,  betrayed  annoyance. 
And  Idina  knew  him  well. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  say  what  I  really  think,  or 
to  pay  you  compliments?"  he  asked. 

"What  you  really  think,  of  course." 

"Then,  there's  nothing  new  or  original  in  your 
plot,  to  excuse  its  —  unpleasantness." 

"But  if  it  happens  to  be  true?" 

"  Many  unpleasant  things  are  true,  but  why  rake 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     515 

them  up  unless  there's  something  great  in  the  theme 
that  makes  them  worth  retelling?" 

"It's  too  soon  to  judge  yet.  You  haven't  heard 
the  best  part.  What  do  you  think  of  the  story, 
Princess?" 

Marie,  who  had  not  ceased  caressing  the  dog, 
listening  with  her  cheek  pillowed  on  his  silken  fore- 
head, lifted  her  face  and  returned  Idina's  look.  As 
she  raised  her  head,  Mary's  heart  gave  a  bound  which 
took  her  breath  away.  But  it  was  she  whose  eyes 
were  dilated,  whose  face  was  feverishly  flushed, 
whose  breast  rose  and  fell  as  if  a  hammer  were  pound- 
ing within.  The  Princess  was  white,  but  scarcely 
whiter  than  usual.  Her  lips  were  pale,  and  rather 
dry,  as  if  she  had  been  motoring  in  a  chilly  wind. 
She  was  smiling;  and  if  the  smile  were  slightly 
strained  and  photographic,  perhaps  only  one  who 
watched  her  in  the  anxiety  of  love  would  have  felt 
the  subtle  difference. 

"I'm  afraid  Angelo's  right,"  she  said.  "It's  not 
a  particularly  original  plot.  And  —  forgive  me  — 
your  heroine  isn't  of  a  very  interesting  type,  is.  she? 
Intriguing,  cold,  ambitious,  catty.  One  reads  of 
women  who  give  themselves  to  men  without  love, 
but  —  they  don't  seem  natural,  at  least  to  me.  I 
believe  you  must  be  mistaken  in  thinking  your  plot 
is  a  true  story." 

"I  can  prove  its  truth,"  said  Idina,  quietly.  "At 
least  Miss  Jewett  can.  She  has  been  getting  the 
materials.  That's  her  business.  She's  celebrated 
for  it  in  America." 


516     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Then  I  daresay  you  can  work  this  up  into  some- 
thing worth  reading,  for  a  certain  sort  of  book," 
Marie  answered.  "But  —  just  in  the  telling  it  isn't 
quite  —  quite  —  well,  Angelo  and  I  can  stand  it  of 
course,  but  Mary  —  I  must  think  of  her,  you  know. 
And  I  don't  see  how  our  opinion  can  be  of  much  use 
to  you  and  Miss  Jewett.  So  what  is  the  use  — 

"Of  going  on?"  Idina  caught  her  up,  in  a  voice  of 
iron  or  steel.  "But  I  particularly  want  Angelo's 
opinion  as  to  what  the  end  of  the  story  should  be. 
It's  for  a  man  to  judge.  If  it  bores  you  to  listen, 

and  you  don't  think  it's  proper  for  Miss  Grant " 

She  paused  significantly,  and  her  look  flung  venom. 
But  she  had  not  fully  counted  on  her  cousin's  loyalty 
to  his  wife,  his  indifference,  almost  amounting  to  dis- 
like at  last,  for  herself. 

"Don't  you  feel,  Idina,"  he  interposed  with  a 
deadly  quietness  she  knew  to  be  a  danger-signal, 
"that  any  story  which  —  er  —  bores  my  wife  had 
better  be  left  untold  in  her  house?  If  you  really 
wish  to  have  my  opinion  on  this  plot  of  which  you 
think  so  much,  write  the  rest  out  for  me,  and  I'll  let 
you  have  my  verdict." 

With  a  swift  movement  Idina  stood  up.  For  once 
the  statue-white  face  was  flushed  with  a  dull,  dis- 
agreeable red  which  made  her  almost  ugly.  She 
looked  tall  and  forbidding.  "Write!"  she  repeated 
in  a  tone  of  suppressed  fury,  deep  as  a  man's. 
"Do  you  think  my  letter  would  ever  come  to 
your  eyes?  She  would  destroy  it  before  it  could 
get  to  you  —  cunning  cat  that  she  is.  You  fool, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     517 

it's  her  story  I've  been  telling  you  —  your  wife's. 
She  lived  with  that  man  —  went  to  Russia  with 
him " 

"Be  silent!" 

The  two  words  cut  short  the  torrent  pouring  from 
Idina's  lips,  as  a  block  of  ice  might  dam  a  rushing 
stream.  But  it  was  the  look  in  Angelo's  eyes,  even 
more  than  his  command,  which  shocked  Idina  into 
silence.  She  knew  then  that  as  much  as  he  loved 
his  wife,  he  hated  her,  Idina,  and  that  nothing  on 
earth  could  ever  change  his  hate  back  into  indif- 
ference. She  knew  that  if  she  were  a  man  he  would 
by  this  time  have  killed  her.  The  knowledge  was 
anguish  almost  beyond  bearing,  yet  the  irrevocability 
of  what  she  had  done  spurred  her  on  after  the  first 
instant. 

"I'll  not  be  silent!"  she  panted.  "For  your  fa- 
ther's sake.  You've  disgraced  him  in  marrying  this 
woman " 

"Go,"  Angelo  said,  "unless  you  wish  to  be  turned 
out  by  my  servants,  you  and  your  friend  whom  you 
brought  here  on  false  pretences." 

"I  didn't  know  how  she  was  going  to  work  this 
thing,"  Miss  Jewett  protested  hastily.  "If  I  had, 
I  wouldn't  - 

"It  does  not  matter,"  Angelo  said. 

"But  it  does  matter.  Everything  matters,'* 
Marie  broke  in,  her  quiet,  alert,  almost  businesslike 
tone  a  surprise  to  her  friend.  "  Don't  send  them  away 
yet,  Angelo — in  justice  to  me.  I  know  you  don't  be- 
lieve things  against  me  —  of  course  not.  Perhaps 


518     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

you  would  not  believe,  even  if  they  could  seem  to 
prove  anything,  which  they  couldn't  do.  Things 
that  aren't  true  can't  be  proved  really,  by  the 
most  cruel  and  malicious  people.  But  maybe  if  you 
sent  Miss  Bland  and  her  detective  friend  out  of  the 
house  now,  you  might  sometimes  think  of  what 
you've  heard,  in  spite  of  yourself  —  in  the  night, 
when  dreadful  thoughts  seem  almost  true  —  and 
that  would  kill  me.  Besides,  these  women  might 
spread  tales.  And  that  would  distress  your  father. 
I  must  justify  myself  —  not  in  your  eyes;  that  isn't 
needed;  but  in  theirs.  I  must  do  it  —  even  at  the 
awful  expense  of  sacrificing  another.  Two  names 
very  much  alike  have  made  this  mischief.  Angelo, 
it  was  Mary  Grant  who  was  at  that  convent-school 
in  Scotland,  where  Miss  Jewett  must  have  been  spy- 
ing for  your  cousin.  I'd  have  saved  poor  Mary  if 
I  could.  But  you  come  first  with  me — first,  before 
everything  and  every  one.  Ask  her  if  what  I  say  of 
her  is  not  the  truth." 

Mary  turned  and  looked  at  her  friend.  She  was 
very  still.  Her  heart,  which  had  pounded  in  her 
bosom,  moving  the  laces  of  her  blouse,  might  almost 
have  ceased  beating.  She  appeared  hardly  to 
breathe.  But  through  her  large,  soft  eyes  her  soul 
seemed  to  pour  itself  out  in  a  crystalline  ray,  pierc- 
ing to  the  soul  of  Marie.  And  to  the  woman  who  had 
used  the  heart  of  her  friend  for  a  shield  came  a  sudden 
and  terrible  thought.  She  remembered  a  passage 
in  the  Gospels  where  Judas  led  the  Roman  soldiers 
by  night  to  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  Jesus, 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     519 

speaking  no  word,  turned  and  looked  at  the  betrayer. 
It  was  as  if  she  saw  a  picture  of  this  betrayal,  beside 
the  picture  of  herself  leaning  forward  in  the  red 
hammock,  with  Angelo  beside  her  and  Mary's  clear 
eyes  questioning  hers.  She  could  have  cried  out 
aloud,  and  falling  on  her  knees  have  confessed  every- 
thing, begging  God's  forgiveness  and  Angelo's  and 
Mary's.  But  instead,  because  she  clung  to  this 
one  desperate  hope  of  keeping  Angelo,  she  sat  erect 
and  firm,  her  ice-cold  hands  tightly  grasping  the  edge 
of  the  hammock,  one  on  either  side  of  her  body.  If 
she  had  let  go  or  tried  to  stand  up,  she  knew  that 
she  must  have  collapsed.  Grasping  the  edge  of  the 
hammock  seemed  to  lend  strength  and  power  of 
endurance  not  only  to  her  body  but  to  her  spirit  as 
well.  She  gave  back  Mary's  gaze  steadily,  and  was 
hardly  aware  of  turning  her  eyes  for  an  instant  from 
the  still,  pure  face  which  had  never  looked  so  gentle 
or  so  sweet;  yet  she  must  have  glanced  away,  for  she 
warmed  slowly  with  the  consciousness  that  Idina 
Bland  was  confused,  and  that  Miss  Jewett  too 
was  under  the  influence  of  some  new  emotion  which 
made  her  appear  less  hard,  less  dry,  more  like  a 
human  being.  Hope  ran  through  the  veins  of  Marie 
in  a  vital  tide.  The  desperate  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  had  put  the  right  weapon  in  her  hand. 
She  must  go  on  and  use  it  mercilessly,  for  she  had 
touched  the  weak  spot  in  her  enemy's  armour. 
Those  two  women  did  not  know  everything,  after  all. 
Tdina  had  somehow  overreached  herself.  It  was  cer- 
tain that  the  allies  were  pausing  to  recover  strength. 


520     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Are  you  the  woman  to  whom  my  cousin  refers, 
Miss  Grant?"  Angelo  asked;  and  his  voice  was  the 
voice  of  the  judge,  not  the  protector. 

Mary  thought  of  Vanno.  The  very  likeness  be- 
tween this  cold  voice  and  the  dear,  warm  voice  of  the 
absent  one  made  the  thought  a  pang.  Her  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  Still  she  was  silent. 

"Am  I  to  take  your  silence  as  assent?"  Angelo 
asked  again,  when  he  had  waited  in  vain  for  her  to 
speak,  and  the  waiting  had  seemed  long  to  both. 

Mary  was  sitting  almost  opposite  the  hammock, 
in  a  chair  turned  slightly  away  from  it,  so  that  she 
faced  Angelo  more  fully  than  she  faced  Marie,  un- 
less she  moved  her  head  purposely,  as  she  had  moved 
it  when  her  eyes  questioned  the  eyes  of  her  friend. 
Her  hands  were  loosely  clasped  in  her  lap;  and  with- 
out answering  she  slowly  bowed  her  head  over  them. 
As  she  did  so,  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  ring  Vanno  had 
slipped  on  her  finger  with  a  kiss  that  was  a  pledge, 
the  ring  with  "Remember  eternal"  written  inside. 
The  sight  of  it  was  a  knock  at  her  heart,  like  the 
knock  of  a  rescuer  on  the  door  of  a  beleaguered  castle. 
She  did  not  speak,  in  her  own  defence,  for  silence 
was  defence  of  Marie.  And  little  knowing  how  she 
would  be  tried,  she  had  sworn  to  defend  her  friend, 
sworn  by  Vanno's  love  and  her  own  love  for  Vanno. 
It  was  a  vow  she  would  not  break  if  she  could,  lest 
a  curse  fall  in  punishment  and  kill  the  love  which  was 
her  dearest  treasure.  Yet  through  all  the  echoing 
confusion  in  her  mind  one  note  rang  clear:  she  must 
in  the  end  right  herself  with  Vanno. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     521 

It  was  almost  as  much  for  his  sake  as  Marie's, 
she  felt  dimly,  that  she  must  keep  her  promise  now 
and  endure  this  shame,  this  martyrdom;  for  Marie 
was  Angelo's  wife,  and  Angelo  was  Vanno's  beloved 
brother  whose  sorrow  would  be  Vanno's  sorrow, 
whose  dishonour  would  be  the  family's  dishonour. 
But  as  she  looked  at  his  ring,  through  the  thick  mist 
of  her  tears,  Mary  comforted  herself  by  saying: 
"Somehow  it  must  come  right.  I  can  sacrifice  my- 
self now,  but  not  for  always.  In  some  way  I  will 
let  Vanno  know." 

She  thought  vaguely,  stumblingly,  her  ideas  astray 
and  groping  like  blind  men  in  an  earthquake,  knowing 
not  where  to  turn  for  safety.  And  as  she  thought, 
Miss  Jewett  was  speaking.  Mary  heard  what  the 
American  woman  said  only  as  an  undertone  to  the 
clamour  in  her  own  brain;  but  at  last  the  sense  of  the 
words  and  what  they  might  mean  for  herself  sprang 
out  of  darkness  like  the  white  arm  of  a  searchlight. 

"In  justice  to  Princess  Delia  Robbia  and  to  me  — 
though  maybe  you  won't  care  much  about  that  — 
you  must  hear  what  I've  got  to  tell  you,"  Miss 
Jewett  said  imperatively  to  Angelo.  "It's  true  I'm 
a  detective.  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it.  I've  made  a 
reputation  that  way.  But  I'm  human.  I  didn't 
come  here  to  be  a  beast.  I'd  no  idea  what  Miss 
Bland  was  up  to.  I  thought  she  wanted  me  to  look 
at  the  Princess,  and  know  whether  I'd  seen  her 
picture  at  the  Convent  of  St.  Ursula-of-the-Lake,  in 
Scotland.  I  went  there  on  Miss  Bland's  business, 
while  she  waited  here,  near  your  house,  so  as  to  be 


522     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

on  the  spot  when  I  came  along  with  news.  It  was  in 
America  she  first  engaged  me  to  do  the  work.  She 
said  her  cousin  the  Duke  di  Rienzi  wasn't  satisfied 
with  his  son's  marriage,  and  wanted  to  find  out 
something  about  the  lady.  It  was  all  one  to  me,  so 
long  as  I  was  paid.  And  I  have  been  paid.  But 
if  she  offered  me  twice  as  much  I  wouldn't  do  the 
thing  over  again;  and  I  won't  raise  a  finger  for  her 
if  she  wants  any  more  done.  She  can  do  her 
own  dirty  work.  She  said  her  cousin  the  Duke  told 
her  his  new  daughter-in-law  was  an  artist  in  Dresden, 
and  she  sent  me  there.  I  got  off  the  track  a  bit, 
but  some  things  I  heard  sent  me  on  to  St.  Petersburg. 
There  had  been  a  Mary  Gaunt  or  Grant  stopping 
there  once  in  a  hotel,  with  a  man  she  wasn't  married 
to ;  that's  certain  —  and  she  came  with  him  from 
Paris.  From  Paris  I  traced  her  —  that  is,  I  traced  a 
Mary  Grant  —  back  to  Scotland  and  a  convent- 
school.  The  last  place  I  went  —  while  Miss  Bland 
waited  here  keeping  her  eye  on  you  all  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  maybe  spying  out  things  on  her  own  ac- 
count —  was  that  convent.  I  raked  up  old  gossip 
outside,  and  I  got  in  easily  enough,  for  the  Mother 
Superior  and  the  nuns  are  nice  to  visitors  who  seem 
interested.  But  the  minute  I  began  to  ask  questions 
about  a  pupil  in  the  school  who'd  run  away,  the  good 
ladies  shut  up  like  oysters.  I  had  to  leave  defeated 
as  far  as  the  last  part  of  my  job  was  concerned,,  though 
I'm  not  used  to  fail.  One  thing  I  did  accomplish, 
though :  I  looked  hard  at  a  picture  in  the  reception 
room,  with  a  lot  of  girls  in  it,  pupils  of  the  school,  and 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     523 

I  memorized  every  face.  The  Princess  was  not  there; 
but  this  young  lady  was;  and  her  name  I  find  now  is 
Mary  Grant.  Unfortunately  she's  been  a  good  deal 
talked  about  in  Monte  Carlo,  it  seems.  Miss  Bland 
knows  that.  I  saw  her  in  the  woods  but  couldn't  be 
certain  at  a  distance,  so  I  said  nothing  then  to 
Miss  Bland.  Since  then  she  hasn't  given  me  time. 
And  now  whatever  happens,  I  wash  my  hands  of  the 
whole  business." 

Angelo  had  listened  quietly,  after  realizing  that 
Miss  Jewett's  object  was  to  justify  his  wife,  not  to 
incriminate  her.  And  though  Marie  needed  no 
justification  in  his  eyes,  it  was  well  that  Idina  should 
hear  it  from  the  lips  of  her  own  paid  employe". 

When  the  self-confessed  detective  had  finished, 
he  turned  upon  his  cousin  eyes  of  implacable  coldness. 

"You  are  punished  for  your  malevolence,"  he 
said,  "though  to  my  mind  no  punishment  could  be 
severe  enough.  Go,  with  your  humiliation,  the 
knowledge  of  your  failure  and  my  contempt  for  you. 
If  possible,  you  have  made  me  love  my  wife  better 
than  ever.  But  before  you  go,  understand  this:  if 
you  attempt  to  attack  her  again  —  if  I  hear  of  any 
malicious  gossip,  as  I  shall  hear,  provided  you  utter 
it  —  I  shall  pursue  you  with  the  law.  Without  any 
fear  of  exposure,  since  there  is  nothing  to  expose,  I 
will  prosecute  you  for  slander,  and  you  will  go  to 
prison.  This  is  no  empty  threat.  It  is  a  warning. 
And  it  is  all  I  have  to  say." 

He  walked  swiftly  to  the  end  of  the  loggia  and 
touched  an  electric  bell  on  the  house- wall.  WTiile 


524     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Idina  Bland  and  Miss  Jewett  stood  in  silence  Amer- 
ico  came,  smiling  as  usual,  to  the  door-window. 

"These  ladies  are  going,"  announced  the  Prince. 
"Show  them  out." 

When  they  had  gone,  he  went  at  once  to  Marie,  and 
taking  her  hand,  kissed  it  tenderly.  "My  darling, 
this  has  been  very  trying  for  you,"  he  said.  "You  are 
not  strong.  Now  it  is  my  wish  that  you  go  to  your 
room  and  lie  down.  Soon  I  will  come  to  you,  but 
first  I  must  talk  for  a  little  while  with  Miss  Grant." 

Until  an  hour  ago  he  had  called  her  Mary. 

With  an  arm  round  her  waist,  Angelo  lifted  Marie 
from  the  hammock,  and  began  to  lead  her  toward 
the  door,  but  she  resisted  feebly.  "Angelo,  I  can't 
go!"  she  stammered.  "I  can't  leave  Mary  with 
you  —  like  this.  I  must  stay.  I 

"Dear  one,  I  wish  you  to  go,"  Angelo  insisted 
gently.  "It  is  right  for  you  to  go.  Trust  me  to  be 
neither  cruel  nor  unkind  to  Miss  Grant." 

"But- 

" There  is  no  'but."1  Angelo  had  her  at  the  door; 
and  resigning  herself,  with  one  backward  look  at 
Mary  imploring  pardon  and  mercy,  the  Princess 
went  out. 

Mary  saw,  though  she  scarcely  troubled  to  read  the 
look.  She  pitied  Marie,  but  pitied  her  as  a  coward. 
The  girl  meant  to  be  loyal,  yet  somehow,  in  the  end,  to 
save  her  own  happiness.  But  she  could  not  plan 
for  the  future.  She  felt  dazed,  broken,  as  if  she  had 
been  on  the  rack  and  was  now  to  be  tortured  again. 


XXXIII 

IN  A  moment  Angelo  had  softly  closed  the  glass 
door  after  Marie,  and  had  come  back.  He  stood 
before  Mary,  looking  down  at  her.  At  first  she  did 
not  raise  her  eyes,  but  his  drew  hers  to  them.  They 
gazed  at  her  with  a  cold  anger  that  was  like  fire  burn- 
ing behind  a  screen  of  ice.  And  the  ice  made  the 
fire  more  terrible. 

His  look  bade  her  rise  and  stand  before  him, 
a  culprit,  but  she  would  not.  She  sat  still,  in 
the  same  chair  where  she  had  sat  happily  writ- 
ing to  Vanno  a  few  hours  before.  Though  she 
trembled,  she  faced  the  Prince  without  shrinking 
outwardly.  Perhaps  to  Angelo's  eyes  she  appeared 
defiant. 

"Does  my  brother  know?"  he  asked. 

"He  knows  —  that  I  was  at  a  convent-school." 
In  spite  of  herself  Mary  choked  in  the  words.  She 
stammered  slightly,  and  a  wave  of  giddiness  swept 
over  her.  With  a  supreme  effort  she  controlled 
herself,  looking  up  at  Angelo's  tall  figure,  which  to 
her  loomed  Titanic. 

"I  mean  does  he  know  the  rest?" 

"There  is  nothing  else  to  know.  I  did  not  do  any 
of  those  things  Miss  Bland  talked  about." 

"Very  well.     But  you  must  see  that  you  will  have 

525 


526     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to  prove  that,  before  you  can  show  yourself  worthy 
to  be  my  brother's  wife." 

It  was  on  Mary's  lips  to  exclaim:  "I  can  prove 
it  easily ! "  But  just  in  time  she  remembered  that,  to 
prove  her  own  innocence  —  as  indeed  she  very  easily 
could  —  she  would  have  to  prove  Marie's  guilt. 
This  could  not  be  avoided.  The  guilty  one  in  throw- 
ing the  blame  upon  another  had  been  as  one  who 
jumps  into  the  sea  to  avoid  fire.  Mary  could  save 
her  friend  from  the  waves  only  by  giving  up  her  own 
boat;  for  in  that  boat  there  was  not  room  for  two. 

Fear  brushed  the  girl's  spirit  like  the  wing  of  a 
bat  in  the  dark.  Safety  for  her  with  Vanno  began 
to  seem  far  off  and  more  difficult  to  attain  than  she 
had  dreamed  when,  by  silence,  she  kept  her  promise 
to  Marie.  And  what  she  had  done  was  largely  for 
Vanno's  sake,  she  repeated  to  herself  once  again. 
The  Princess  was  his  sister-in-law.  Her  honour  was 
the  Delia  Robbia's  honour. 

A  way  must  open.     Light  must  come. 

"I  think,"  Mary  said,  trying  not  to  let  the  words 
falter  on  her  lips,  "Vanno  won't  want  proof.'*  But 
as  she  spoke,  even  before  she  finished,  she  recalled 
how  Vanno  had  at  first  believed  appearances  and 
gossip  against  her.  Of  course  it  would  be  different 
now  that  he  knew  her  heart  and  soul.  Still,  the  bat's 
wings  flapped  in  the  night  of  her  darkening  fear. 
And  Marie's  words  of  the  other  day  echoed  in  her 
memory.  "The  brothers  are  alike  .  .  .  they 
adore  purity  .  .  .  and  they  have  a  pitying 
horror  of  women  who  aren't  innocent.'  Could 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      527 

Vanno  believe  her  not  innocent  —  now?  Could 
his  eyes-  "stars  of  love,"  Marie  had  called  his 
and  Angelo's  —  could  his  eyes  that  had  adored, 
look  at  her  with  the  dreadful  coldness  of  Angelo's 
at  this  moment,  the  coldness  which  would  be  death 
for  Marie? 

As  something  far  down  within  herself  asked  the 
question,  another  thought  stood  out  clear  and 
sharp-cut.  She  had  promised  Marie  not  to  tell 
Vanno,  not  even  to  "tell  a  priest  in  confession." 
Yet  she  must  tell,  for  after  all  that  had  happened 
she  could  not  bear  to  let  Vanno  take  her  on  faith 
alone. 

Angelo's  answer  came  like  a  confirmation  of  her 
resolve. 

"It's  not  only  a  question  of  what  Vanno  may 
want,"  he  said,  with  a  very  evident  effort  not  to  be 
harsh  to  a  woman,  defenceless  if  guilty.  "You 
don't  seem  to  realize,  Miss  Grant,  that  —  both  he 
and  I  owe  something  to  our  father  —  to  our  fore- 
fathers. The  men  of  our  family  have  done  things 
they  ought  not  to  do.  History  tells  of  them.  But 
history  tells  also  that  they  have  never  taken  wives 
unworthy  to  be  the  mothers  of  noble  sons." 

Then  at  last  Mary  rose  swiftly,  bidden  to  her 
feet  not  by  Angelo's  haughty  eyes  but  by  her  own 
pride  of  womanhood,  and  resentment  of  the  whip 
with  which  he  had  dared  to  lash  her. 

"If  Vanno  were  here  he  would  kill  you!"  the 
strange  something  that  was  not  herself  cried  out  in  a 
voice  that  was  not  hers. 


528     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Angelo's  face  hardened  as  he  looked  down  at  her 
with  a  bitter  contempt. 

"So  you  would  rejoice  in  bringing  strife  between 
brothers ! "  he  said.  "I  had  not  yet  thought  so  badly 
of  you  as  that.  But  there  are  such  women.  It  was 
almost  incredible  to  me  at  first  that  you  —  in  face 
a  sweet  young  girl  —  could  have  accepted  Vanno's 
love  without  telling  him  about  —  your  past,  and  at 
least  giving  him  the  chance  to  choose.  Now  I  begin 
to  see  you  in  a  different  light." 

"You  see  me  in  a  false  light,"  Mary  said  passion- 
ately. "  You  tortured  that  out  of  me  —  about  Vanno. 
I  didn't  mean  it.  I'd  rather  die  this  moment  than 
bring  strife  between  you.  I  know  he  loves  you  dearly. 
But  if  you  loved  him  as  well,  you  couldn't  have 
spoken  as  you  did  to  me.  I  too  am  dear  to  him." 

"It  is  because  I  love  Vanno  that  I  had  to  speak 
so,"  Angelo  persisted,  not  softening  at  all.  "I  am 
his  elder  brother.  Soon,  I  fear,  I  shall  be  the  head 
of  our  house.  It  is  my  duty  to  protect  him." 

"Against  me?" 

"Against  you  —  if  you  make  it  necessary." 

"I  told  you  and  I  tell  you  again,"  Mary  cried  in 
exasperation,  "that  I  have  done  nothing  wrong. 
There's  nothing  in  my  ' past '  to  confess.  If  I  haven't 
talked  much  to  Vanno  about  it,  that's  because  there 
was  so  much  else  to  say." 

"How  old  are  you,  Miss  Grant?"  Angelo  put  the 
question  abruptly. 

"Twenty-five,"  she  replied  without  hesitation, 
though  puzzled  at  the  seeming  irrelevance. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     529 

"Ah!  I  happen  to  know  that  Vanno  believes  you 
to  be  under  twenty." 

"I  never  said  so.  I  would  have  told  him  my  age 
if  I  had  thought  of  it." 

"He  spoke  of  you  to  me,  before  we  met,  as  a  'child 
not  yet  past  her  teens,  and  just  out  of  a  convent- 
school.'  How  long  do  you  say  it  is  since  you  were  a 
pupil  at  that  convent,  where  I  believe  you  admit 
having  been  —  St.  Ursula-of-the-Lake,  in  Scotland?" 

"It's   almost    four   years   since   I   was  a  pupil, 

but "     She  checked  herself  in  haste.     In  another 

instant  she  would  have  said  a  thing  which  might 
have  opened  the  eyes  of  Marie's  husband  on  some 
dim  vision  of  the  truth. 

"I  will  answer  no  more  questions  from  you,  Prince 
Delia  Robbia,"  she  said,  with  an  almost  stern  dignity 
which  had  never  been  hers.  Angelo  felt  this,  but 
it  made  him  see  her  as  a  woman  more  dangerous  to 
Vanno  than  he  had  supposed,  because  it  revealed 
in  her  unexpected  strength,  tenacity,  and  even 
subtlety. 

"Very  well,"  he  replied.  "It  is  your  right  to 
refuse.  But  this  you  must  understand.  I  shall  not 
permit  my  brother  to  marry  you  in  ignorance  of  - 
we  will  say  the  stories  told  of  your  past,  since  you 
deny  their  truth.  If  you  refuse  to  tell  him,  I  my- 
self will  do  it.  I  will  tell  him  exactly  what  has 
happened  to-day.  And  I  shall  see  that  the  de- 
tective whom  Idina  employed  against  my  wife 
does  not  go  away  before  Vanno  returns,  at  any 
rate  without  leaving  her  address.  Also  I  must  say 


530    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

this :  I  cannot  compel  my  brother  to  give  you  up  if 
he  chooses  you  as  his  wife  in  spite  of  all,  and  if  you 
love  him  little  enough  to  do  him  so  great  a  wrong. 
But  I  can  control  my  wife's  actions.  Frankly,  I  do 
not  consider  you  the  right  companion  for  her." 

Mary's  cheeks  blazed,  not  with  shame  but  with 
indignation.  She  quivered  from  head  to  foot  with 
anger  such  as  she  had  not  known  that  she  could  feel. 
Never  had  she  experienced  so  strong  a  temptation  as 
now,  when  she  burned  to  fling  the  truth  in  this  man's 
haughty  face.  How  it  would  change  if  she  accused 
the  wife  he  put  so  far  above  her!  And  how  easily 
she  could  prove  that  the  burden  of  guilt  was  Marie's. 
It  was  as  if  in  a  vivid  lightning-flash  she  saw  Angela 
withered  by  the  knowledge,  his  pride  in  the  dust; 
and  a  tigress  instinct  of  revenge  leaped  into  life, 
longing  to  see  him  thus  in  reality,  burning  to  use  her 
power  to  crush  and  annihilate  his  happiness  for- 
ever. But  she  fought  with  herself  and  resisted. 
For  an  instant  she  was  silent,  gathering  the  reins  of 
self-control.  Then  she  said  only:  "I  will  go  away 
from  your  house  at  once,  Prince  Delia  Robbia." 

"That  must  be  as  you  wish,"  he  replied.  "I  do 
not  ask  you  to  go." 

"You  believe  unspeakable  things  of  me.  That  is 
the  same  as  telling  me  to  go.  In  my  country  they 
suppose  people  innocent  until  they're  proved  guilty. 
With  you,  it  seems  to  be  different.  Without  waiting 
for  proof,  you  take  it  for  granted  that  I'm  guilty,, 
that  I've  deceived  Vanno  and  you." 

"Your  silence  when  you  might  have  defended  your- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     531 

self  from  Miss  Bland  and  from  the  American  woman 
was  proof  in  itself.  If  you  are  not  the  person  con- 
cerned in  their  story,  surely  you  would  have  denied 
your  identity  with  her.  You  said  nothing.  You 
bowed  your  head  under  the  storm.  Only  now,  when 
you're  alone  with  me,  knowing  me  to  be  ignorant  of 
any  facts  against  you,  do  you  raise  it  again.  But 
enough  of  recrimination.  Vanno  can  decide  for  him- 
self when  he  comes,  and  when  he  knows  all  from  you 
or  me.  Meanwhile  you  may  stay  in  my  house  if  you 
choose.  I  offer  you  its  shelter  because  you  are  a 
woman  alone  and  because  my  brother  who  loves  you 
put  you  under  my  protection.  But  I  do  not  intend 
that  my  wife  shall  have  any  further  communication 
with  you;  and  to  prevent  talk  among  the  servants 
which  might  spread  outside,  I  suggest  that  if  you  re- 
main you  keep  your  room,  as  an  invalid,  until 
Vanno  returns." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  consideration,"  Mary  said 
bitterly,  "but  I  shall  not  stay.  I  shall  pack  my 
things  immediately  myself;  for  I  will  not  be  helped 
by  one  of  your  servants,  or  owe  anything  more  to 
you.  When  Vanno  comes,  as  you  say,  he  can  decide 
for  himself." 

"You  will  write  to  him?"  Angelo  inquired. 

"I  will  write  to  him.  And  you  need  have  no 
further  trouble  with  anything  that  concerns  me." 

Without  another  word,  or  a  look  at  him,  she  turned 
away  and  walked  into  the  house. 

Almost  mechanically  she  went  upstairs  to  the 
pretty  room  that  had  been  hers.  She  was  too  in- 


532     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

tensely  excited  to  think.  She  could  only  feel.  And 
throughout  her  whole  life  she  had  felt  about  her 
thoughts,  rather  than  thought  about  her  feelings. 
Less  than  ever  did  she  try  to  analyze  them  now. 
She  hastily  gathered  her  things  together,  and  piled 
them  without  folding  into  trunks  and  dressing-bag. 
She  had  not  made  up  her  mind  where  to  go  or  what 
to  do.  The  first  thing  and  the  most  important  thing 
was  to  get  away  from  this  house.  Once  away, 
breathing  freer  air,  it  would  be  time  enough  to  plan. 

As  she  packed  furiously  and  unskilfully,  she  feared 
that  Marie  might  come  in  and  beg  her  forgiveness  or 
try  to  explain.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  bear  this. 
And  she  shrank  from  the  idea  of  seeing  Marie  again. 
She  was  afraid  that  she  might  be  tempted  to  say 
something  terrible.  The  one  clear  thought  in  her 
brain  was  the  thought  of  Vanno;  and  he  was  in  her 
mind  as  an  image  rather  than  a  thought.  She  said 
over  and  over  to  herself  almost  stupidly  as  she  pre- 
pared to  leave  Angelo's  house:  "If  only  Vanno  were 
here  —  if  only  Vanno  were  here!" 

Before  she  was  ready  to  go  she  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  she  must  have  a  cab.  Nothing  would 
induce  her  to  take  Prince  Delia  Robbia's  car,  even 
if  it  were  offered.  She  rang  for  a  servant,  gave  a 
generous  present  of  money,  and  said  that  she  had 
received  news  calling  her  away  at  once.  A  carriage 
must  be  found  quickly. 

As  it  happened,  the  descendant  of  the  great  French 
family  was  stationed  at  the  edge  of  the  olive  wood 
with  his  little  victoria.  The  weather  had  changed 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     533 

since  morning.  The  mistral  had  begun  to  blow, 
and  Jacques  had  found  little  to  do,  for  people  were 
keeping  indoors.  When  Mary  started,  with  one 
trunk  on  the  front  of  the  little  cab,  the  world  was 
very  different  from  the  happy  blue  and  gold  world 
of  the  morning.  Had  she  been  on  foot,  the  gale 
sweeping  down  from  Provence  would  have  blown  her 
like  a  rag  from  the  path;  and  the  small  but  sturdy 
horse  seemed  to  lean  on  a  wall  of  wind  as  he  trotted 
toward  Monte  Carlo. 

Mary  had  resolved  to  beg  Rose  Winter  for  a  night's 
shelter.  She  believed  it  might  be  possible,  without 
betraying  the  secret,  to  tell  Rose  that  something 
disturbing  had  happened  which  had  decided  her  to 
leave  Prince  Delia  Robbia's  house.  She  felt  sure 
of  advice  and  welcome  from  the  Winters,  and  she 
thought  it  probable  that  they  would  ask  her  to  stop 
longer  than  the  night;  but  she  made  up  her  mind  in 
advance  not  to  accept  such  an  invitation.  People 
who  knew  that  she  was  visiting  Princess  Delia 
Robbia  would  talk  if  they  saw  her  in  Monte  Carlo, 
especially  while  Vanno  was  away.  There  had  been 
more  than  enough  gossip  already.  When  she  started 
for  Monte  Carlo  she  had  no  idea  where  to  go 
after  leaving  Rose,  as  she  determined  to  do  next  day; 
but  it  was  as  if  a  voice  came  to  her  on  the  wind,  say- 
ing: "Why  not  stay  at  the  Chateau  Lontana?" 

Mary  caught  at  the  suggestion.  She  had  felt 
vaguely  guilty  in  deciding  that  she  could  not  grant 
Hannaford's  wish,  and  live  in  his  villa.  It  had  seemed 
impossible  to  be  happy  there.  She  had  thought  that 


534     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

tragic  memories  would  haunt  the  house  and  echo 
through  the  rooms,  though  strangers  who  knew  noth- 
ing of  Hannaford's  story  might  find  it  a  pleasant 
place.  But  now  she  was  not  asking  or  expecting 
happiness  for  the  present.  She  wanted  a  refuge, 
where  she  might  think  and  wait  quietly,  out  of 
gossip's  way  —  a  place  whence  she  could  write 
Vanno:  "When  you  come  you  will  find  me  here." 

As  she  said  these  words  in  her  mind  they  took  a 
different  form.  "//  you  come,"  she  began;  then 
stopped  hastily  and  changed  the  "if"  to  "when." 
Vanno  would  come.  She  had  done  nothing  because 
of  which  she  deserved  to  lose  him,  and  she  would  not 
lose  him.  Somehow,  everything  must  be  made  to 
come  right.  She  would  think  of  a  way. 

In  front  of  the  big,  balconied  building  where  the 
Winters  lived  Jacques  stopped  and  put  Mary's  small 
trunk  and  dressing-bag  inside  the  door,  while  his 
little  white  horse  stood  tranquilly  among  passing 
motors.  She  asked  him  to  call  later  at  the  Villa 
Mirasole  for  her  other  luggage,  which  she  had  already 
packed  and  labelled,  and  take  it  to  the  cloak-room 
at  Monte  Carlo  railway  station,  where  it  could  be 
called  for.  Then  she  paid  him  generously  for  every- 
thing, and  won  the  man's  heart  by  saying  goodbye 
to  his  miniature  dog,  Pomponette. 

Mary  had  no  doubt  that  the  Winters  would  take 
her  in  for  the  night;  and  it  was  a  blow  to  be  told  by 
Nathalie  that  Monsieur  and  Madame  had  gone  to 
Nice  to  bring  back  the  aunt  of  Monsieur  who  had 
fallen  ill  at  a  hotel.  They  would  return  by  the  train 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     535 

arriving  at  seven.  Would  Mademoiselle  wait  or 
look  in  again? 

Mary  hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to  rearrange 
her  plans.  It  was  evident,  as  the  dreaded  aunt  had 
come  down  upon  them  after  all,  that  the  Winters 
could  not  keep  another  guest  even  for  a  night,  unless 
they  made  a  bed  in  the  drawing-room,  or  the  chap- 
lain went  out  and  gave  up  his  share  of  Rose's  room. 
But  Mary  did  not  think  for  an  instant  of  putting 
her  friends  to  this  inconvenience. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said,  recovering  from  the 
first  shock  of  disappointment.  "Tell  Madame  I 
regret  very  much  not  seeing  her,  but  I  called  to  get 
my  jewel-case  which  she  kindly  kept  for  me.  And 
—  say  that  I  will  write." 

Already  Mary  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
must  go  at  once  to  the  Chateau  Lontana.  She  knew 
that  Hannaford  had  put  in  a  caretaker  when  he 
bought  the  place  —  a  woman  he  had  described  as  an 
interesting  creature  "discovered"  in  some  odd  way. 
What  the  way  was,  or  precisely  what  Hannaford  had 
said  of  the  woman,  Mary  had  forgotten;  for  she  had 
often  listened  absent-mindedly  to  Hannaford's  talk 
of  his  beloved  villa  and  all  concerning  it;  but  the 
great  thing  was  the  certainty  that  a  woman  lived 
in  the  house.  Mary  could  go  there  alone  without 
fear. 

She  was  glad  that  Rose  had  given  her  the  key 
of  the  cabinet  in  which  her  jewel-case  was  kept, 
because  she  had  very  little  money,  and  as  it  was 
already  five  o'clock  the  banks  would  be  shut.  It 


536     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

would  not  be  an  agreeable  necessity,  but  she  could 
go  to  the  jeweller  in  the  Galerie  Charles  Trois  where 
she  had  bought  many  of  her  beautiful  things  and, 
explaining  that  she  needed  ready  money,  ask  him 
to  buy  back  a  diamond  pendant  or  brooch. 

When  she  had  taken  the  jewel-case,  which  was  in 
the  shape  of  an  inconspicuous  hand  bag,  she  gave 
Nathalie  the  key  of  the  cabinet,  and  said  nothing  of 
the  luggage  waiting  on  the  ground  floor.  She  knew 
it  would  grieve  George  and  Rose  Winter  to  guess 
that  she  had  come  expecting  to  stay.  Downstairs 
she  spoke  to  the  concierge,  saying  she  would  return 
with  a  cab  to  fetch  the  things  away.  She  would  go, 
she  thought,  to  the  railway  station  and  inquire  about 
trains  for  Ventimiglia.  Then  having  settled  the 
hour  of  departure,  she  would  dispose  of  a  little 
jewellery  and  call  in  a  cab  at  the  Winters'  for  her 
luggage. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  the  early  darkness  of  the 
Riviera  night  had  fallen,  though  it  was  only  five 
o'clock,  but  the  Boulevard  d'ltalie  and  the  Boulevard 
des  Moulins  were  brilliantly  lighted.  The  shops 
looked  bright  and  enticing,  but  Mary  did  not  notice 
them  as  she  would  once  have  done.  She  walked 
quickly,  and  at  the  top  of  the  gardens  was  about 
to  turn  down  toward  the  Casino  and  more  distant 
railway  station  when  she  came  upon  Lord  and  Lady 
Dauntrey. 

If  she  could  she  would  have  avoided  them,  but  it 
was  too  late.  They  were  standing  together,  talk- 
ing with  great  earnestness,  and  Mary  had  brushed 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     537 

against  Lord  Dauntrey's  shoulder  on  the  narrow 
pavement  before  she  recognized  the  pair.  Both 
turned  with  a  start,  as  if  they  had  been  brought  back 
by  a  touch  from  dreams  to  reality;  and  a  street  lamp 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gardens  lighted  up  their 
features  with  a  cruel  distinctness.  Instantly  Mary 
knew  that  some  terrible  thing  had  happened.  Lord 
Dauntrey  was  like  a  man  under  sentence  of  death, 
and  though  his  wife's  expression  was  not  to  be  read 
at  a  glance,  the  look  in  her  eyes  arrested  Mary.  The 
girl  stopped  involuntarily,  as  if  Eve  had  seized  her 
by  the  arm.  "What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked, 
without  any  preface  of  greeting.  A  conventional 
"How  do  you  do?"  would  have  been  an  insulting 
mockery  flung  at  those  set,  white  faces. 

"For  God's  sake,  tell  her  not  to  drive  me  mad," 
Dauntrey  said  in  a  voice  which  was  strange  to  Mary. 
It  was  not  like  his,  though  she  had  heard  him  speak 
raspingly  when  ill  luck  at  the  tables  had  depressed 
him.  It  seemed  to  her  that  such  a  voice  might  come 
from  one  shut  up  in  a  cell,  or  from  a  man  enclosed 
in  armour  with  visor  down.  It  was  a  voice  that 
frightened  her. 

"Oh,  Lady  Dauntrey,  what  does  he  mean?" 

Eve  caught  the  girl  by  the  hand,  holding  it  tightly, 
as  if  she  feared  that  she  might  take  alarm  and  run 
away. 

"I've  told  him  that  I  shall  hate  him  if  he's  a 
coward,"  she  answered  in  a  voice  cold  and  hard  as 
iron. 

"If  I'm  a  coward,  what  are  you?"  Dauntrey  re- 


538     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

torted.  "You  want  me  to  crawl  to  those  people 
for  a  few  wretched  louis,  and  you're  too  selfish  to 
stick  by  me  through  it  all.  I've  told  you  I'd  go,  if 
you'd  go  with  me." 

"I  won't!"  Eve  flung  at  him.  "You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  ask  it.  Coward!  He's  brought  us  to 
this,  and  now  he's  afraid  to  do  the  one  thing  that 
can  help." 

"Please,  please,  let  me  go  away,"  pleaded  Mary, 
sick  with  shame  for  both,  and  for  herself  because  she 
was  a  witness  of  the  scene.  "I  oughtn't  to  be  hear- 
ing this.  I  —  unless  I  can  do  some  good " 

"  You  can  go  with  him,  if  you  want  to  do  good," 
Eve  cut  her  short  almost  savagely.  "I'm  broken  - 
done!  But  you  —  you've  nothing  to  ask  them  for 
yourself.  You  might  see  him  through,  if  he's  too 
weak  to  go  alone.  We're  down,  both  of  us,  in  the 
mud;  but  you're  high  up  in  the  world.  You're  of 
importance  now.  Maybe  they'd  do  for  you  what 
they  wouldn't  for  one  of  us." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.     I'm  in  the  dark." 

"How  could  she  know?"  Dauntrey  asked  his  wife, 
controlling  his  rage. 

"We've  lost  everything  in  this  beautiful  hell," 
Eve  explained  sullenly.  "Haven't  you  heard  any 
news  of  us  this  last  week?" 

"No,  nothing  —  nothing." 

"It  began  with  a  row  at  a  hotel,"  Eve  went  on. 
"I  lost  my  temper  —  I  had  the  best  excuse  —  but 
I  struck  a  woman  who  dared  to  cut  me.  There  was 
a  scene.  Then  all  the  people  who  were  left  at  our 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  539 

house  turned  against  us  and  walked  off  the  same 
day " 

"Yet  she  says  everything  is  my  fault!"  Dauntrey 
threw  out  his  hands  with  a  disclaiming  gesture. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  Eve  shrilled  at  him,  seeming 
to  care  no  more  than  a  wounded  animal  for  the  as- 
tonished stares  of  passers-by.  It  was  only  Dauntrey 
who  made  some  poor  attempt  to  cloak  and  screen 
the  squalor  of  their  quarrel.  "What  I  say  is  true. 
Everything  is  your  fault.  Who  gambled  away  the 
money  I  made,  slaving  in  the  house,  taking  boarders 
and  trying  to  hold  my  head  up?  It  was  for  your 
sake  I  worked;  and  now  you  refuse  to  do  your  part, 
yet  you  expect  me  to  keep  on  loving  you." 

" Oh,  don't,  don't ! "  Mary  pleaded.  "I'll  go  with 
him,  anywhere  you  want  me  to  go." 

Instantly  Eve  became  calmer.  "Will  you  do  the 
thing  if  she  stands  by  you?"  she  asked  her  husband. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  dully. 

"Then  for  heaven's  sake  start  at  once,  before  you 
change  your  mind.  "I'll  wait  for  you  here,  on  a 
seat.  I  must  sit  down  or  I  shall  drop." 

"Wouldn't  you  rather  go  home  if  —  if  I  ordered 
you  a  cab?"  Mary  suggested.  "You  will  be  so  cold 
—  so  miserable  —  sitting  out  of  doors  in  this  sharp 
wind,  with  clouds  of  dust  blowing." 

"  Home ! "  Eve  repeated.  "  We  haven't  any  home. 
We've  had  to  leave  the  villa.  We  couldn't  pay  the 
rent.  The  beast  of  a  landlord  ordered  us  out. 
Nobody  trusts  anybody  else  at  Monte  Carlo.  The 
tradespeople  are  after  us  like  wolves.  They've  taken 


540     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

everything  we  had  worth  taking,  except  the  clothes 
on  our  backs.  Now  do  you  wonder  I  want  him  to 
get  what  he  can  out  of  the  Casino?  We  must 
be  off  somewhere,  to-night,  before  these  brutes  of 
tradesmen  know  we're  away  from  the  villa  for  good. 
They've  probably  nosed  out  something  by  this 
time." 

"Come  along,  Miss  Grant,  if  you're  really  willing 
to  see  me  through  this,"  Dauntrey  said,  clinging  to 
those  bare  rocks  of  conventionality  which  still  rose 
above  the  waters  of  despair. 

"Unless,"  Eve  broke  in  quickly,  "you'd  rather 
lend  us  enough  to  get  us  out  of  the  whole  scrape? 
Some  day " 

"Oh,  cut  that,  Eve,"  her  husband  interposed.  "I 
wouldn't  take  any  more  of  Miss  Grant's  money  even 
if  she'd  give  it,  for  it  would  be  giving,  not  lending." 

* '  That  depends  on  you .  If  you're  so  mean-spirited 
that  you  can't  earn  our  living,  I  suppose  we'll  have 
to  beg  the  rest  of  our  lives,  unless  I  go  on  the  stage 
or  something,"  said  Eve.  "You  always  do  your 
best  to  crush  every  idea  of  mine." 

"Just  now  I  can't  lay  my  hands  on  any  money," 
Mary  explained  gently,  anxious  to  keep  the  peace. 

"I  was  on  my  way '  She  was  about  to  mention 

the  jewellery  she  wished  to  sell,  but  Eve,  too  im- 
patient to  hear  the  excuses  she  expected,  cut  her 
short. 

"Oh,  well,  the  next  best  thing  is  to  help  Dauntrey 
squeeze  as  much  as  he  can  out  of  the  Casino.  Use 
your  influence.  I  know  he  won't  speak  up  for  himself. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     541 

He's  an  English  peer,  when  !all's  said  and  done !  It 
would  make  a  big  scandal  if  he  committed  suicide 
because  he'd  lost  everything  in  their  beastly  place. 
The  papers  all  over  the  world  would  be  full  of  it. 
The  Casino  wouldn't  .like  that  much.  You  can  point 
it  out." 

Mary  shivered  and  felt  sick.  She  heard  Lord 
Dauntrey  mutter  something  under  his  breath,  and 
saw  him  turn  away.  It  was  indescribably  repulsive 
that  his  wife  should  speak  in  his  presence  of  his 
possible  suicide.  The  girl  felt  a  sudden  horror  of 
Lady  Dauntrey,  yet  she  did  not  cease  to  pity  her; 
and  she  was  infinitely  sorry  for  the  cowed  and 
wretched  man  whom  she  had  always  liked. 

They  started  together  for  the  Casino,  Mary  not 
yet  understanding  precisely  what  was  to  be  done, 
but  willing  to  give  her  services.  For  the  moment 
her  own  troubles  seemed  small  and  easy  to  overcome, 
compared  with  the  shipwreck  of  this  miserable  pair 
who  had  called  themselves  her  friends. 


XXXIV 

DAUNTRET  walked  with  his  head  down,  his  hat 
pulled  over  his  eyes  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
Mary  noticed  that,  though  the  wind  was  the  coldest 
she  had  known  at  Monte  Carlo,  he  wore  no  over- 
coat. She  wondered  if  even  that  had  been  taken 
from  him  by  the  people  to  whom  he  owed  money. 
Once  he  looked  back  lingeringly.  "Eve  must  have 
gone  to  sit  down,"  he  said;  and  then,  in  shamed 
apology,  "the  poor  girl  is  almost  mad,  and  so  am  I. 
You  mustn't  think  too  much  of  what  passed  be- 
tween us.  We  —  we  love  each  other,  and  come  what 
may  I  believe  we  always  will." 

"I'm  certain  of  that,"  Mary  answered,  in  a  warm 
voice  which  came  from  her  heart. 

They  had  walked  on  for  a  moment  or  two  in 
silence,  when  Dauntrey  asked  abruptly:  "Do  you 
know  what  you're  letting  yourself  in  for?" 

"Not  quite,"  Mary  admitted.  "But  whatever  it 
is,  I  don't  think  I  shall  much  mind  if  I  can  help 

you." 

"I  believe  you  really  can  help,"  he  assured  her. 
"I'm  going  to  apply  for  what's  called  the  viatique. 
It's  a  sum  of  money  the  Casino  people  grant  to  —  to 
us  broken  gamblers,  if  we  can  prove  that  we've  lost 
a  lot.  It's  a  way  of  getting  rid  of  us,  without 

542 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES.   543 

too  much  trouble  to  themselves  or  —  as  my  wife 
said  —  danger  of  scandal.  They'll  give  a  ticket 
second  class,  to  take  you  home  if  you're  dead  broke, 
even  if  your  home's  as  far  off  as  Bombay,  and  enough 
money  to  pay  for  your  food  on  the  journey.  It's 
very  decent  of  them  —  generous,  considering  they 
don't  ask  you  to  come  here  and  gamble,  and  that 
they  always  play  fair.  But  a  railway  ticket  and  a 
few  louis  in  my  pocket  are  no  good  in  my  case.  I've 
Eve  to  think  of  —  and  some  sort  of  a  future,  God 
help  me!  She  hopes  because  I  happen  to  have  a 
title  which  used  to  be  of  some  importance  I  may 
bluff  them  into  giving  me  a  good  lump  sum.  I'm 
afraid  there  isn't  much  in  that.  Nobody  ever  heard 
of  their  offering  more  than  two  thousand  francs,  so 
far  as  I  know,  and  that  was  exceptional,  a  classic 
sort  of  case.  But  it  may  be  they'll  be  influenced 
by  you.  Every  one  knows  you're  going  to  marry 
the  Duke  di  Rienzi's  son.  And  you've  been  rather 
a  famous  gambler.  You're  of  some  importance. 
Heaven  knows  I'm  not!  If  I  get  something  worth 
what  I  have  to  go  through,  you'll  be  the  one  to 
thank  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  moral  support.  I've 
gone  to  pieces  so  the  last  few  days,  I  doubt  if  I  could 
have  faced  this  alone." 

They  came  to  the  Casino,  and  Mary  was  chal- 
lenged by  one  of  the  doorkeepers  because  of  her 
bag.  He  reminded  her  politely  that  no  one  was 
allowed  to  go  in  with  a  parcel  of  any  description. 
"Ever  since  a  lady  tried  to  blow  us  all  up  with  a 
bomb  in  a  paper  package,"  he  added,  smiling. 


544     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I'll  leave  my  bag  in  the  vestiaire,"  Mary  prom- 
ised; and  being  well  known  she  was  allowed  to  pass. 

The  attendant  in  whose  care  she  indifferently 
placed  the  locked  jewel-case  had  no  idea  that  he 
guarded  valuables  worth  two  thousand  pounds  or 
more.  The  hand-bag  had  a  modest  air  of  containing 
a  few  pretty  trifles  for  a  toilet  in  a  motor  car. 

Mary's  heart  had  begun  to  beat  fast,  for  Lord 
Dauntrey's  face  was  so  pale  and  rigid  that  she 
realized  his  dread  of  an  ordeal  and  began  to  share  it. 
It  was  many  days  since  she  had  entered  the  Casino. 
The  atrium,  once  so  familiar,  almost  dear  to  her  eyes, 
looked  strange.  It  was  odd  to  find  there  the  same 
faces  she  had  often  seen  before.  She  felt  as  if  years 
had  passed  since  she  was  one  of  those  who  eagerly 
frequented  this  place.  What  if  Vanno  could  see  her 
now?  she  thought.  He  would  not  like  to  have  her 
come  to  the  Casino  with  Lord  Dauntrey,  yet  if  she 
could  make  him  understand  all,  she  told  herself  that 
he  would  not  be  angry.  Angelo  might  be,  and  even 
unforgiving,  but  not  Vanno. 

"Where  must  we  go  to  ask  for  the  viatique?" 
she  inquired  of  Dauntrey  in  a  low  voice,  looking 
anxiously  at  the  different  closed  doors,  behind  which 
any  mystery  might  hide,  for  few  ever  saw  them  open. 

"We  have  to  go  through  the  Salle  Schmidt,"  he 
answered  doggedly. 

That  seemed  worse  than  she  had  thought,  but  she 
said  nothing.  She  found  herself  suddenly  missing 
Hannaford,  and  wishing  that  his  calm  face  with  its 
black  bandage  might  appear  among  all  these  faces 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     545 

that  meant  nothing  to  her.  If  he  were  here  he  would 
stand  by  them,  or  perhaps  go  alone  with  Lord  Daun- 
trey  in  order  to  spare  her.  He  had  always  tried  to 
save  her  from  everything  disagreeable,  from  the  very 
beginning  of  their  friendship  until  its  end. 

The  mellow  golden  light  in  the  great  gaming  room, 
and  the  somnolent  musky  scent  which  she  had  called 
the  "smell  of  money,"  seized  upon  Mary's  imagina- 
tion with  renewed  vividness,  even  as  on  the  first 
night  when  as  a  stranger  she  timidly  yet  eagerly 
entered  the  Casino.  She  felt  again  the  powerful 
influence  of  the  place,  but  in  a  different  way.  The 
pleasant,  kindly  animal  to  which  she  had  likened 
the  Casino  was  now  a  mighty  monster,  who  must  be 
approached  with  caution  and  even  fear,  whose  gentle, 
feline  purring  was  the  purr  of  a  tiger  sitting  with 
claws  in  sheath.  How  the  great  golden  beast  could 
strike  and  tear  sometimes,  the  desperate  face  of  her 
companion  told.  Mary  feared  for  his  sake  that 
people  might  read  the  lines  of  misery,  and  whisper 
that  here  was  one  of  Monte  Carlo's  wrecks. 

She  had  often  noticed  in  the  gilded  Salle  Schmidt 
those  four  long  mirrors  in  the  corners,  which  could 
only  be  known  as  doors  when  some  inspector  or  other 
functionary  pressed  his  foot  on  a  trigger  level  with 
the  floor  in  front  of  one  of  them.  When  this  was 
done,  a  mirror  would  instantly  move  so  promptly 
that  Mary  had  named  those  doors  the  "open  sesa- 
mes." 

Now,  when  she  had  walked  with  Dauntrey  to  the 
farthest  door  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  room,  he 


546     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

stopped.  Near  by  stood  two  blue-coated,  gold- 
braided  Casino  footmen,  as.  if  keeping  guard;  and 
suddenly  Mary  remembered  that  these  or  other  foot- 
men were  always  hovering  at  that  spot.  Often,  too, 
she  had  seen  shamed  and  sad-looking  men  and  women 
sitting  dejectedly  on  the  leather  cushioned  seat  by  the 
side  of  the  door.  She  had  never  thought  about  them 
particularly,  but  in  this  moment  oi  enlightenment  she 
guessed  why  they  haunted  this  corner,  like  starved 
birds  waiting  in  the  hope  of  crumbs.  She  was  thank- 
ful to  see  that  the  seat  was  deserted.  It  would  have 
been  terrible  to  be  one  of  those  who  had  to  wait  while 
everybody  who  knew  the  secret  of  the  door  passed  by 
and  saw,  and  stared  curiously  or  pityingly.  She  began 
to  understand  how  it  was  that  Eve's  shattered  nerves 
had  forbidden  her  to  come  and  "stand  by"  Lord 
Dauntrey. 

Leaving  the  girl  a  pace  or  two  behind,  he  squared 
his  shoulders  and  went  up  to  the  footmen.  Mary 
could  not  hear  what  he  said,  but  the  Casino  servant's 
answer  was  distinctly  audible.  It  was  politely 
spoken,  yet  there  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  in  the  man's 
manner  a  slight  indifference,  and  even  disdain,  which 
would  not  have  been  there  in  addressing  a  successful, 
not  a  broken,  gambler. 

"Monsieur  is  engaged  at  present,  but  will  be  free 
in  a  few  moments,"  she  heard. 

Dauntrey  came  quickly  back  to  her,  as  to  a  refuge. 
The  eyes  of  both  footmen  rested  upon  her  for  an 
instant.  They  were  almost,  but  not  quite,  expres- 
sionless. Under  control  yet  visible  was  surprise 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     547 

and  animal  curiosity.  The  men  knew  Miss  Grant 
by  sight  and  reputation  as  "one  of  the  lucky  ones," 
and  she  felt  that  they  were  wondering  if  she  too  had 
lost  all,  and  come  whining  to  the  "management" 
for  a  viatique. 

"For  heaven's  sake  let's  stand  out  of  the  way," 
Dauntrey  whispered,  "so  every  one  won't  know  what 
we're  after."  They  moved  to  a  little  distance,  and 
Lord  Dauntrey  began  trying  to  make  conversation, 
but  could  think  of  nothing  to  say.  Long  pauses 
fell.  Both  tried  not  to  look  at  the  mirror  door,  but 
their  eyes  were  drawn  there,  as  if  by  an  unseen  power 
behind  it.  They  could  see  themselves  and  each  other 
in  the  glass.  Mary  thought  that  no  one  could  help 
noticing  how  anxious  and  strained  were  their  faces. 

After  some  moments,  which  seemed  long,  the  door 
opened  without  sound  and  a  woman  appeared.  She 
hung  her  head,  and  her  face  was  concealed  with  a 
veil  such  as  Princess  Delia  Robbia  had  worn  when 
she  came  to  Rose  Winter's  flat.  A  footman  with  a 
yellow  paper  in  his  hand  preceded  the  drooping 
figure,  steering  toward  the  outer  door  of  the  Salle 
Schmidt,  as  if  going  to  the  atrium.  He  had  a  pecu- 
liarly stolid  air,  as  if  performing  a  business  duty  to 
which  he  was  so  used  that  he  could  do  it  very  well 
while  other  matters  engaged  his  thoughts. 

"She's  got  something,  anyhow,"  mumbled  Lord 
Dauntrey,  in  a  sickly  voice.  "Come  along,  please. 
It's  our  turn  now." 

He  identified  Mary  with  his  own  interests,  as  if 
they  were  intimately  hers.  Politely,  or  perhaps  in 


548     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

cowardice,  he  stood  aside  to  let  her  go  before  him. 
Immediately  and  without  noise  the  door  was  closed 
behind  them. 

Mary's  hands  were  cold.  A  little  pulse  was  beat- 
ing in  her  throat,  and  its  throbbing  made  her  feel 
slightly  sick.  She  looked  up,  wide-eyed,  into  the 
face  of  a  man  who  had  dismissed  the  veiled  woman, 
and  stood  waiting  to  receive  them. 

He  was  spare,  elderly,  black-coated,  almost  ab- 
surdly respectable  looking,  with  his  gray  beard  and 
mild  gaze  behind  gold-rimmed  pince-nez.  The 
small  bare  room  with  its  plain  desk  and  two  or  three 
chairs  made  a  bleak  background  for  the  neat  figure 
of  the  man.  The  austerity  of  the  closet-like  en- 
closure, in  contrast  with  the  magnificence  outside, 
seemed  meant  as  a  warning  to  let  petitions  be  brief, 
to  the  point,  and  above  all  strictly  within  the  bounds 
of  reason. 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  for  you?"  As  he 
asked  this  question,  with  cool  civility,  the  benev- 
olent yet  cautious  eyes  peered  through  their  glass 
screen  at  Mary;  and  the  thought  sprang  into 
her  mind  that  this  elderly  man  of  commonplace 
appearance  had  perhaps  listened  to  more  harrowing 
stories  of  human  misery  and  ruin  than  any  other 
person  in  the  world.  Even  the  most  popular  father 
confessor  of  the  church  could  scarcely  have  heard  as 
many  agonizing  appeals.  He  must  be  able  to  dis- 
criminate between  truth  and  falsehood,  to  read  faces 
and  judge  voices,  for  no  doubt,  as  Mary  guessed, 
people  must  often  come  to  him  swearing  they  had 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     549 

lost  many  thousands  of  francs,  when  in  reality  their 
losses  amounted  only  to  a  few  hundreds. 

Dauntrey,  whose  hand  was  unsteady,  held  out 
his  season  card  of  admission  to  the  Casino.  "I  sup- 
pose you  know  who  I  am,"  he  said. 

The  man  in  the  black  coat  looked  at  the  name  on 
the  card,  and  inclined  his  head  slightly  as  if  in 
affirmation. 

"I've  lost  all  I  had  in  the  world,"  Dauntrey  went 
on  in  a  dead  voice,  "and  all  my  wife  had.  I've  been 
here  since  the  beginning  of  December  and  had  the 
most  cursed  luck.  I  —  Miss  Grant  will  bear  me  out. 
She  was  staying  at  our  house.  You've  seen  her 
before  no  doubt.  One  of  your  lucky  ones.  You  — 
you'll  have  to  do  something  decent  for  me.  Unfor- 
tunately I've  got  into  debt  —  my  rent  —  and  trades- 
men. No  good  having  a  scandal.  You've  had  a 
lot  out  of  me  —  close  on  ten  thousand  pounds.  You 
can  afford  to  give  me  back  10  per  cent.,  can't  you?" 

The  official's  face  hardened.  He  looked  a  man 
who  could  be  obdurate  as  well  as  benevolent.  "I 
regret,"  he  replied  in  English,  "that  it  is  impossible 
to  give  any  such  sum.  Nothing  like  it  has  ever  been 
granted,  not  even  to  those  who  have  lost  great 
fortunes.  If  the  Casino  made  such  presents  it  would 
cease  to  exist.  And  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  my 
lord  in  excitement  exaggerates  his  losses.  I  have 
heard  that  he  has  lost  not  more  than  four  thousand 
pounds,  and  that  three  fourths  of  that  sum  belonged 
to  his  friends,  for  whom  he  kindly  played.  In  my 
lord's  case,  two  first-class  tickets  to  London " 


550     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Of  no  use  whatever/*  Dauntrey  broke  in  sharply. 
"What  would  you  have  me  do  when  my  wife  and  I 
get  to  England  without  a  penny?" 

"After  all,  that  is  your  lordship's  affair.'* 

Dauntrey's  face  crimsoned,  and  the  veins  stood 
out  in  his  temples.  Then  the  red  faded,  leaving 
him  yellow  pale. 

"It  will  be  your  affair  if  I  kill  myself  here,  as  I 
shall  be  driven  to  do  if  you  won't  help  me.  My 
name  will  cause  some  little  sensation  after  I'm  dead, 
if  it  never  made  any  stir  while  I  lived." 

"Couldn't  the  Casino  spare  Lord  Dauntrey  five 
hundred  pounds,  at  least?"  Mary  begged,  stumbling 
to  the  rescue.  "It  would  be  so  dreadful  for  every- 
body concerned  if  —  if  —  anything  happened." 

"The  administration  cannot  allow  itself  to  be 
threatened,"  its  mouthpiece  answered. 

"My  threat  isn't  an  empty  one,"  Dauntrey  per- 
sisted. "You  leave  only  one  exit  open  for  me." 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  no  authority  to  grant 
large  sums  to  any  one,  on  any  pretext."  The  tone 
was  firm,  but  something  in  the  eyes  encouraged  Mary 
to  persevere.  She  pleaded  as  nothing  imaginable 
could  have  induced  her  to  plead  for  herself,  and  at 
last  the  man  with  the  pince-nez  promised  to  "recom- 
mend the  administration"  to  give  his  lordship  two 
thousand  francs.  Dauntrey  was  provided  with  a  bit 
of  yellow  paper,  such  as  Mary  had  seen  in  the  hand 
of  the  veiled  woman.  This,  he  was  told,  must  be  pre- 
sented upstairs,  and  in  the  morning  Dauntrey  would 
receive  the  gift,  or  "loan,"  of  two  thousand  francs. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     551 

Mary  had  expected  him  to  be  bitterly  disappointed, 
but  when  she  had  secured  her  hand-bag  and  they  were 
leaving  the  Casino  together,  he  seemed  compara- 
tively cheerful.  "With  this  money  I  may  win 
everything  back  at  baccarat  in  Nice,"  he  said,  "if 
Eve  doesn't  object.  We've  got  to  go  somewhere. 
Why  not  there?  And  if  I  lose,  things  won't  be  any 
worse  with  us  than  they  are  now.  What  use  is  two 
thousand  francs  except  to  gamble  with?  Still,  I 
didn't  think  they'd  give  me  as  much,  and  they 
wouldn't,  by  half,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

"I  hope  Lady  Dauntrey  won't  be  disappointed," 
Mary  ventured. 

"I  don't  know  —  I  don't  know,"  he  muttered. 
"Eve  is  in  a  strange  state  of  mind.  It  makes  me 
anxious  for  the  future.  But  what's  the  good  of 
worrying?  Perhaps  there  won't  be  any  future." 

Lady  Dauntrey  was  sitting  on  an  iron  seat  near 
the  top  of  the  gardens.  She  sprang  up  when  the 
lamplight  showed  her  the  two  figures  she  knew,  walk- 
ing side  by  side. 

"Well?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"Two  thousand  francs  —  thanks  to  Miss  Grant," 
her  husband  answered;  and  Mary  was  afraid  of  an 
angry  outburst,  but  it  did  not  come. 

"Two  thousand  francs!"  Eve  echoed,  dully. 
"Better  than  nothing.  But  what's  to  become  of 
us?  Where  shall  we  go?  If  we  buy  tickets  even 
second  class  for  England,  there's  a  lot  gone.  If  only 
we  could  get  away  to  some  place  near  by  and  hide 
ourselves  for  a  while,  till  we  could  have  time  to  look 


55£     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

round  and  make  up  our  minds!"  She  turned 
quickly  to  Mary.  "While  you  were  both  gone," 
she  said,  "I  was  thinking.  It's  true,  isn't  it,  that 
Captain  Hannaford  left  the  chateau  he  bought  to 
you?" 

"Yes,"  Mary  admitted. 

"I  was  wondering  if  you'd  let  us  live  in  it  for  a 
few  days  —  or  a  few  weeks." 

"I'm  going  there  myself  to-night,"  Mary  said 
impulsively.  Then  a  curious  sensation  gripped  her, 
as  if  she  were  caught  by  a  wave  and  swept  onward, 
in  spite  of  herself,  toward  something  which  she 
feared  and  even  hated.  She  wished  intensely  that 
Lady  Dauntrey  had  not  mentioned  the  Chateau 
Lontana,  and  that  it  had  been  possible  to  be  silent 
about  her  own  plans.  She  had  spoken  without  stop- 
ping to  think;  but  even  now  that  she  did  think,  she 
could  not  see  how  silence  would  have  been  easy. 
It  seemed  that  unless  she  were  willing  to  be  hard 
and  ungenerous  to  this  unhappy  man  and  woman 
she  could  not  avoid  offering  them  shelter  for  a  few 
days.  Quickly  she  told  herself  that  she  must  give 
them  money  in  addition  to  the  viatique  which 
Lord  Dauntrey  would  receive  in  cash  to-morrow. 
If  he  still  refused  to  accept  anything  more  from  her, 
Lady  Dauntrey  would  need  no  persuasion.  Mary 
was  instinctively  sure  of  this.  And  she  thought 
that  when  the  husband  and  wife  were  in  possession 
of  a  few  hundred  pounds  they  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  leave  the  gloomy  Chateau  Lontana  and  go  to  Eng- 
land or  somewhere  else,  to  recover  themselves. 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  553 

While  she  hesitated,  feeling  compelled  to  invite 
the  Dauntreys,  yet  facing  the  necessity  with  almost 
exaggerated  reluctance,  Eve  saved  her  the  respon- 
sibility of  deciding.  "  Won't  you  take  us  with  you?  " 
she  asked  humbly.  "It  seems  —  providential  — 
for  us  that  you're  going.  So  strange,  too,  that  it 
should  be  to-night;  and  so  queer  the  idea  coming 
into  my  head.  Just  as  if  it  was  meant  to  be!" 

Now  the  matter  had  passed  beyond  control,  Mary 
had  the  impulse  to  rebel.  The  wave  had  got  her 
and  was  bearing  her  along.  She  tried  to  catch  at 
safety. 

"But  —  Lord  Dauntrey  must  stay  in  Monte 
Carlo  —  till  to-morrow.  And  I  have  to  go  to-night," 
she  stammered.  "I  don't  quite  see " 

"You're  going  alone?"  Eve  asked. 

"Yes." 

"How  queer  of  the  Princess  Delia  Robbia  to  let 
you  do  that!" 

"She  doesn't  know."     The  girl  defended  Marie. 

"Doesn't  know  where  you're  going?" 

"No."     Mary  felt  obliged  to  explain.     "I  was  — 
vexed  at  something  that  happened  to-day.     So  I  - 
finished  my  visit  sooner  than  I  expected." 

"Oh!  And  does  your  friend  Mrs.  Winter  ap- 
prove?" 

"She  doesn't  know,  either.  She's  at  Nice  for  the 
day,  with  her  husband." 

"Surely  somebody  must  know  what  you're  doing. 
Your  own  Prince  Vanno?" 

Mary  shrank  a  little  from  the  familiar  name  on 


554     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

lips  that  had  no  right  to  it;  yet  she  answered  gently: 
"Even  he  doesn't  know.  He's  in  Rome;  but  per- 
haps you've  heard.  It  was  in  the  paper,  Marie  — 
Princess  Delia  Robbia  told  me.  I  shall  write  to 
him,  of  course." 

"Of  course.  Meanwhile,  you  seem  to  be  — 
sneaking  off  the  stage  when  nobody's  looking." 
Lady  Dauntrey  laughed  a  staccato  laugh  at  her  own 
rather  lumbering  joke. 

"Nobody  but  you  and  Lord  Dauntrey,  as  it 
happens." 

"Well,"  Eve  began  to  speak  slowly,  as  if  on  re- 
flection, "I'm  sure  you  must  have  some  wise  reason 
for  what  you're  doing,  dear;  but  whatever  it  is,  I 
can't  help  thinking  it  will  be  a  very  good  thing  for 
you  to  have  us  with  you.  You're  too  young  and 
pretty  to  be  running  about  by  yourself,  and  going 
to  stay  in  lonesome  villas.  There  are  servants  at 
the  Chateau  Lontana  who  expect  you,  anyhow,  I 
suppose?" 

"Only  a  caretaker  Captain  Hannaford  put  in. 
I  haven't  had  time  to  let  her  know." 

"Dear  me,  you  are  casual!  The  place  is  near 
Ventimiglia,  isn't  it?  I've  never  seen  it." 

"I've  only  passed,  motoring  to  Bordighera.  It's 
not  very  far  beyond  the  frontier." 

"Good!  That  simplifies  matters.  Dauntrey  can 
easily  run  back  to  Monte  to-morrow  and  get  his 
money.  When  are  you  starting,  dear?" 

"I  must  find  out  about  trains.  And  before  I 
leave,  I  have  to  go  to  the  Galerie  Charles  Trois  and 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     555 

get  a  jeweller  there  to  take  back  one  or  two  pieces 
of  jewellery,  for  I  must  have  some  money.  When 
I  —  decided  to  start  this  evening,  the  bank  was 
already  shut." 

Lady  Dauntrey  darted  a  sudden  glance  of  interest 
at  the  bag  in  Mary's  hand,  which  she  had  been  too 
preoccupied  to  notice  until  now.  Her  guest  had 
kept  most  of  the  much  talked  of  jewels  at  the  bank, 
while  staying  at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista,  but  it  was  not 
difficult  to  guess  that  at  present  they  were  in  their 
owner's  hand. 

"You  won't  get  nearly  what  the  things  are  worth," 
she  said.  "A  pity  to  sell  just  because  you  were 
too  late  to  cash  a  cheque !  I've  got  a  hundred  francs. 
Why  not  let  us  all  three  go  to  Italy  with  that,  and 
Dauntrey  can  finance  you  with  the  Casino  money 
till  you  get  some  from  your  bank?  He  can  take  over 
a  cheque  of  yours.  That  would  save  time,  you  know 
-  for  it's  late  already." 

"Very  well,"  Mary  agreed.  A  heavy  sense  of 
depression  had  fallen  upon  her.  The  eager  anxiety 
she  had  felt  to  reach  the  end  of  her  journey  and  write 
to  Vanno  died  down  like  a  fire  quenched  by  water. 

"You  didn't  tell  me  that  you  had  a  hundred 
francs,"  Dauntrey  reproached  his  wife. 

"No,"  she  replied.  "And  I  wouldn't  have  told 
you  now,  if  you  weren't  obliged  to  keep  out  of  the 
Casino." 

He  turned  his  head  aside,  and  was  silent. 

"Aren't  you  taking  luggage?"  Lady  Dauntrey 
inquired  of  Mary. 


"Yes.     I  have  a  small  trunk  and  a  hand-bag  with 
me." 
"Where  are  they?" 

"In  the  room  of  the  concierge  at  Mrs.  Winter's." 

"Let  me  think  a  minute,"  said  Eve.  "Why 
should  we  wait  for  a  train?  There's  sure  not  to  be 
one  when  we  want  it.  We  have  no  luggage,  and  you 
say  your  trunk  is  small.  We  might  hire  a  carriage 
and  drive.  It  would  be  much  pleasanter.  Perhaps 
you  can  lend  me  a  few  things  for  to-night?" 

"Of  course,"  Mary  answered,  trying  to  be  cordial. 

"How  good  you  are  to  us ! "  Eve  exclaimed.  "We 
can  never  be  grateful  enough.  Dauntrey,  will  you 
go  on  to  the  railway  station  and  order  a  commission- 
naire  to  fetch  Mary's  things  from  the  Winters' 
house?  He  can  bring  them  back  to-  the  station  in 
his  cart." 

'*  WTiy  shouldn't  we  pick  the  things  up  on  our  way, 
if  we're  to  have  a  carriage?"  her  husband  argued. 

"Because  my  plan's  the  best,"  she  insisted.  "We 
must  eat  before  we  start.  There  won't  be  much 
food  in  the  villa,  as  Mary's  paying  a  surprise  visit. 
We'll  go  to  a  little  hotel  by  the  station.  I'm  frozen, 
and  food  will  do  us  all  good.  By  the  time  we're 
ready  to  start  the  man  will  have  brought  the  lug- 
gage." 

"It  sounds  unnecessarily  complicated,"  Dauntrey 
muttered ;  but  Eve  gave  him  a  gimlet  look  from  under 
level  brows,  and  he  slouched  away  obediently,  leav- 
ing his  wife  to  follow  slowly  with  the  girl. 


XXXV 

THE  last  familiar  face  Mary  saw  as  she  left  Monte 
Carlo  was  that  of  the  hunchbacked  dwarf  at  St. 
Roman.  He  was  hobbling  away  from  his  pitch  to 
go  home,  and  from  the  window  of  the  closed  landau 
Mary  waved  a  hand  to  him  as  the  horses  trotted  by. 

"Who  was  that?"  Eve  asked,  leaning  forward, 
then  throwing  herself  back  as  if  she  wished  not  to  be 
seen. 

"Only  the  dwarf  beggar  at  the  bridge,"  Mary  an- 
swered. 

"Oh,  only  a  beggar!"  Lady  Dauntrey  settled  her- 
self comfortably  again. 

The  voice  of  the  waves  came  up  with  the  wind  in 
a  ceaseless  moan,  and  for  the  first  time  Mary  hated 
the  sound  of  the  sea.  It  was  like  the  wailing  of  a 
great  company  of  mourning  women.  Far  above  the 
road,  Roquebrune  clock  struck  seven.  It  was 
scarcely  night,  but  darkness  loomed  ahead  like  a 
black  wall,  toward  which  the  horses  hurried  yet 
could  never  pass.  In  this  wall  glittered  square 
peepholes  of  light,  which  were  windows  of  houses  at 
Cap  Martin  —  Angelo's  house  among  others.  When 
with  a  turn  of  the  road  the  bright  spots  vanished, 
Mary  was  overwhelmed  with  homesickness,  such 
pangs  as  children  suffer.  She  did  not  wish  to  be  in 

557 


558     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

the  Villa  Mirasole,  but  leaving  it  behind  in  the 
darkness  and  travelling  toward  the  unknown  made 
her  feel  that  she  was  shut  out  in  the  night  alone, 
far  from  Vanno,  far  from  all  that  could  remind  her 
of  him. 

"Remember  eternal ! "  She  thought  with  a  super- 
stitious pang  of  the  tablet  and  of  the  parted  lovers. 

Marie  had  "seen  pigeons,"  and  said  that  they 
meant  sorrow  and  separation.  The  girl  had  written 
of  this  to  Vanno,  only  a  few  hours  ago,  in  a  spirit  of 
laughter,  but  she  had  been  young  and  happy  then. 
Now  she  felt  deserted  and  old.  She  was  not  glad 
to  have  the  Dauntreys  with  her.  She  would  rather 
have  been  going  alone  to  the  Chateau  Lontana. 
Eve's  figure  sitting  beside  her,  Lord  Dauntrey's 
opposite,  with  his  back  to  the  horses,  looked  black 
against  blackness.  They  spoke  seldom  and  they 
were  like  dreams  of  the  night,  which  had  taken  life. 
Mary  remembered  how  she  had  dreamed  of  Eve, 
and  how  glad  she  had  been  to  wake.  But  now  she 
was  awake  and  Eve  was  by  her  side.  It  was  like  a 
garden  game  the  big  girls  had  made  her  play  when  she 
was  the  youngest  child  in  the  convent-school.  They 
had  wound  long,  thick  strings  round  her  waist  and 
ankles;  then  they  had  made  her  run,  and  when  she 
had  gone  a  certain  distance  they  drew  her  back, 
slowly  and  firmly,  or  with  violence,  according  to 
their  mood.  This  had  been  a  torture  to  the  imagina- 
tive little  girl,  and  Sister  Marie-des-Anges,  seeing  it 
one  day,  ordered  the  older  children  to  stop,  and  the 
game  had  been  forbidden.  This  benevolent  edict 


THE    GUESTS    OP    HERCULES     559 

had  given  Mary  a  warm  sense  of  being  protected; 
but  there  was  no  one  to  protect  her  now. 

If  the  girl  had  been  happy,  she  could  have  laughed 
at  these  memories,  coming  up  in  connection  with  the 
two  silent,  dark  figures  of  the  man  and  woman  she 
was  to  shelter  in  her  house;  but  in  her  perplexity 
their  presence  made  the  desolation  of  the  night  more 
desolate. 

Mentone  streets  were  empty  and  the  shops  shut: 
only  hotel  and  villa  windows  were  bright.  The 
carriage  passed  through  the  town,  and  beyond  the 
last  houses  of  Garavan  the  night  was  blacker  than 
before. 

They  came  to  the  Italian  frontier,  broken  off  from 
the  rich  slopes  of  France  by  the  deep  Gorge  of  St. 
Louis,  resonant  with  singing  water.  Mary  knew 
how  by  daylight  the  mountains  of  Italy  loomed  cold 
in  contrast  to  the  warm  cultivation  of  the  western 
hills,  bare  as  a  series  of  stone  shelves  at  an  anti- 
quary's, spread  with  a  few  rags  of  faded  green  to 
show  off  some  sparsely  scattered  jewels.  But  in  the 
night  she  could  see  nothing,  and  could  hear  only  the 
moan  of  sea  and  wind,  mingled  strangely  with  the 
high  complaining  voice  of  hidden  streams.  On  the 
mountainside  twinkled  the  feeble  lights  of  Grimaldi, 
a  poor  rock-town  once  the  fortress  house  of  Monaco's 
princes;  and  after  another  plunge  into  the  darkness 
of  folding  hills  and  olive  groves  they  passed  La 
Mortola.  Not  more  than  a  mile  or  two  beyond  the 
village  and  the  sleeping  garden,  Mary,  with  her  face 
always  at  the  window,  said: 


560     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Now  we  are  coming  to  the  Chateau  Lontana!" 
Eve  and  her  husband  both  leaned  forward,  strain- 
ing their  eyes  to  make  out  a  height  rising  above  the 
road,  and  the  black  shape  of  a  house  with  towers 
which  seemed  cut  in  the  purple  curtain  of  the  sky. 
There  were  black  nunlike  forms  of  cypress  trees  also, 
which  stood  grouped  together  as  if  looking  down 
thoughtfully  from  their  tall  slopes,  and  old,  wide- 
branching  olives  were  filmy  as  a  gray  cloud  in  the 
darkness. 

The  Monte  Carlo  coachman  evidently  knew  the 
place,  for  he  slowed  down  without  being  asked,  and 
stopped  in  front  of  a  large  double  gate  of  iron  be- 
tween glimmering  columns  of  pale  stone.  This  was 
the  entrance  from  the  road;  but  an  avenue  ran 
steeply  up  the  rocky  slope,  twisting  in  zigzags  to 
reach  the  house.  Jumping  down  from  his  box  the 
man  tried  the  gates,  expecting  to  find  them  locked, 
but  they  yielded  to  a  stout  push,  and  a  moment 
later  he  drove  in.  The  horses,  tired  from  breasting 
the  wind  on  many  hills,  went  up  the  incline  slowly, 
the  wheels  grating  over  small  stones  on  the  ill-kept 
drive.  Mary  thought  the  noise  of  hoofs  and  wheels 
so  sharp  and  unmistakable  that  she  looked  to  see 
some  eye  of  light  suddenly  open  in  the  black  face  of 
the  house.  It  was  not  yet  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
caretaker  could  hardly  have  gone  to  bed.  But  there 
was  no  sign  of  life;  and  the  dark  chateau  among 
crowding  trees  might  have  stood  in  silence  and  deso- 
lation for  a  century  of  sleep,  like  the  lost  palace  of  the 
enchanted  beauty. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     561 

A  flight  of  marble  steps  went  up  to  a  colonnaded 
terrace,  and  Lord  Dauntrey  mounted  first  to  ring 
the  bell. 

"Perhaps  the  caretaker  has  given  herself  a  holi- 
day, and  we  can't  get  in  after  all,"  he  gloomily 
suggested.  His  wife  did  not  answer;  but  Mary,  sitting 
beside  the  silent  woman,  heard  her  breathing  fast. 
This  betrayal  of  anxiety  seemed  tragic.  "Poor 
Lady  Dauntrey!"  the  girl  said  to  herself  in  pity. 
"Here  is  her  one  hope  of  shelter.  She's  afraid  it 
may  fail."  And  Mary  tried  to  be  glad  that  what- 
ever happened  it  was  in  her  power  to  help  the  un- 
lucky couple. 

The  carriage  lights  gilded  the  marble  stairs,  show- 
ing cracks  and  a  green,  mossy  growth  under  each 
shallow  step.  There  was  a  heavy  fragrance  of  datura 
flowers,  sickly  sweet,  that  mingled  with  a  scent  of 
moss  and  mouldy,  unkempt  growing  things,  touching 
the  imagination  like  the  perfume  of  sad  memories. 

Lord  Dauntrey  rang  again  and  again  the  old- 
fashioned  bell  whose  insistent  voice  could  be  heard 
jangling  through  the  house.  At  last,  when  he  had 
rung  four  times,  a  wavering  light  suddenly  streaked 
with  yellow  the  glass  crescent  above  the  door.  There 
was  a  noise  of  a  chair  falling,  a  bolt  slipping  back, 
a  key  turning  rustily;  and  through  these  sounds  of 
life  the  shrill  yap,  yap  of  a  little  dog  cut  like  sharp 
crackings  of  a  whip.  The  door  opened  a  few  inches, 
and  the  yellow  light  haloed  a  dark  head. 

"Who  is  it?"  a  woman's  voice  called  out  in  bad 
Italian,  through  the  shrill  bursts  of  barking. 


562     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Lord  Dauntrey  could  neither  speak  nor  under- 
stand Italian;  but  already  Mary  was  halfway  up  the 
steps.  "  It  is  the  Signorina  Grant,  of  whom  you  have 
heard,"  she  explained.  "You  know  from  the  lawyer 
that  Captain  Hannaford  has  given  his  place  to  me?" 

"Ah,  the  Signorina  at  last!"  exclaimed  the  voice, 
with  an  accent  of  joy.  "Be  thou  still,  little  ten 
times  devil!"  The  door  opened  wide,  and  a  gust  of 
wind  would  have  blown  out  the  flame  of  the  lamp  in 
the  woman's  hand  had  she  not  hastily  stepped  back 
into  the  shelter  of  a  vestibule,  at  the  same  time 
squeezing  the  miniature  wolf-hound  under  her  arm, 
so  that  its  yap  was  crushed  into  a  stricken  rumble. 

Lady  Dauntrey  now  began  to  ascend  the  steps,  and 
the  coachman,  anxious  to  get  home,  alertly  dis- 
mounted the  two  pieces  of  baggage.  He  brought  the 
small  trunk  and  big  dressing-bag  up  to  the  door, 
plumping  them  down  on  the  marble  floor  of  the 
terrace  so  noisily  that  the  dog  again  convulsed  it- 
self with  rage.  The  price  the  man  asked  was  paid 
without  haggling;  he  and  Lord  Dauntrey  between 
them  dragged  Mary's  possessions  into  the  vestibule, 
and  the  door  was  shut.  As  the  girl  heard  the  sounds  of 
hoofs  trotting  gayly  away,  she  would  have  given 
much  to  call  after  the  driver,  to  spring  into  the  car- 
riage and  let  herself  be  taken  anywhere,  if  only  she 
need  not  stay  with  the  Dauntreys  and  the  yapping 
dog  in  this  desolate  house,  which  was  a  dead  man's 
gift  to  her. 

Her  spirits  faintly  revived  when  the  lamplight  had 
shown  her  the  richly  coloured  dark  face  of  the  woman 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     563 

with  the  dog.  It  was  a  young  face,  though  too  full 
and  heavy  chinned  to  be  girlish:  and  from  under  an 
untidy  crown  of  black  hair  two  great  yellow-brown 
eyes,  faithful  and  lustrous  as  a  spaniel's,  gazed  with 
eager  curiosity  at  the  Signorina.  If  the  caretaker 
of  the  Chateau  Lontana  had  been  old  and  forbidding 
Mary's  cup  of  misery  would  have  overflowed,  but 
the  pleased  smile  of  this  red-lipped,  full-bosomed, 
healthy  creature  gave  light  and  warmth  to  the  house. 
"Welcome,  Signorina,"  she  said  in  the  guttural 
Italian  of  one  accustomed  to  a  patois.  "It  has  been 
very  lonely  here  since  the  poor  Captain  ceased  to 
come.  The  lawyer  from  Ventimiglia  said  perhaps 
the  new  mistress  would  arrive  and  surprise  me  one 
day,  but  the  time  seemed  long,  alone  with  the  dog. 
Will  the  Signorina  and  her  friends  come  in?  Think 
nothing  of  the  baggage.  I  am  strong  and  can  carry 
it  without  help.  What  a  pity  I  did  not  know  of 
the  good  fortune  this  night  would  bring!  There  is 
nothing  to  eat  but  a  little  black  bread,  cheese,  and 
lettuce  with  oil :  to  drink,  only  coffee  or  some  rough 
red  wine  of  the  country,  and  fires  nowhere  except  in 
the  kitchen.  But  I  have  pleased  myself  by  keeping 
the  best  rooms  prepared  as  well  as  I  could.  Fires 
are  laid  in  three  of  the  fireplaces,  and  three  beds  can 
be  ready  when  a  warming  pan  full  of  hot  embers  has 
been  passed  between  the  sheets.  It  was  the  poor, 
good  Captain  himself  who  told  me  to  be  prepared. 
He  too  seemed  to  think  that  the  Signorina  might 
come  with  friends,  and  talked  to  me  of  it  the  last  day 
he  was  here." 


564     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

As  the  woman  rambled  on,  she  led  the  way  into 
a  large  hall  opening  out  from  the  vestibule.  In  the 
dim  light  cast  by  her  lamp  the  high  ceilinged,  white- 
walled,  sparsely  furnished  space  was  dreary  as  a 
snow-cave,  and  as  cold;  but  Mary  could  see  that 
by  day  there  might  be  possibilities  of  stately 
charm.  She  forced  herself  to  praise  the  hall  in  order 
to  please  the  caretaker,  whose  eyes  begged  some 
word  of  admiration. 

"Oh,  there  are  many  beautiful  rooms,  Signorina," 
the  Italian  woman  said.  "In  sunlight  they  are 
lovely.  To-morrow,  if  the  Signorina  permits,  I  will 
show  her  all-over  the  house,  and  tell  her  what  things 
the  Captain  liked  best.  But  night  is  the  bad  time 
here.  I  do  not  know  how  I  should  get  on  were  it 
not  for  my  dog,  which  the  Captain  allowed  me  to 
bring  down  from  my  home  in  the  mountains." 

"Ask  her  if  she  speaks  or  understands  French," 
said  Eve. 

Mary  obeyed. 

"Ah,  Signorina,  unfortunately  I  have  but  little 
French.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  learn  Italian  well. 
With  us  up  there,  we  have  a  patois,  but  the  cure  of 
our  village  makes  the  children  study  Italian.  After- 
ward we  are  glad.  Such  French  as  we  have,  we  pick 
up  later  by  ourselves." 

"Where  is  your  village?"  Mary  inquired. 

"Very  far  away,  Signorina,  and  very  high  up, 
where  the  snows  lie  always  in  winter.  It  is  a  town 
built  on  a  rock  where  in  oldest  days  once  stood  a 
temple  of  Baal.  Our  houses  are  very  ancient,  and 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     565 

they  stand  back  to  back  like  soldiers  fighting.  The 
Signorina  cannot  conceive  how  wild  we  are  there. 
And  the  dogs  are  wild,  too.  They  often  run  away 
from  the  village  when  they  are  young  and  go  to  live 
with  the  wolves,  farther  up  the  mountain.  Then 
they  regret  sometimes;  and  when  the  smell  of  cook- 
ing mounts  on  the  wind,  the  poor  animals  creep  down 
as  far  as  they  dare,  to  sit  on  a  ridge  of  rock  where 
they  can  see  people  moving  below.  But  they  can 
never  come  back,  for  the  wolves  would  be  angry 
and  run  after,  to  kill  them  in  revenge.  Look  at  my 
dog,  how  like  a  baby  wolf  he  is.  All  our  dogs  are 
born  with  the  faces  of  wolves.  I  have  an  aunt  at 
home  who  is  a  witch.  The  whole  village  fears  her, 
for  she  curses  those  she  hates,  and  works  wicked 
spells.  Me  she  hates  worst  of  all  because  I  refused 
to  live  in  her  house  when  I  was  young.  I  had  to 
run  away  at  last  with  my  dog,  or  she  would  have 
murdered  me,  in  spite  of  the  cure.  He  sent  me  to 
a  woman  he  knew,  who  had  been  cook  in  this  house. 
When  I  came  she  had  died,  and  the  place  was 
already  sold.  But  I  met  the  Captain  and  he  engaged 
me  to  be  caretaker." 

"He  told  me,"  Mary  said,  "that  your  name  was 
Apollonia,  and  that  you  were  honest  and  good." 

"He  spoke  to  me  of  the  Signorina,  too,"  answered 
the  young  woman.  "He  described  her  as  very  beau- 
tiful, like  a  saint  or  an  angel,  with  kind,  sweet  eyes, 
and  hair  like  the  sun  in  a  mist.  That  is  why,  when 
I  saw  the  Signorina  to-night,  I  knew  she  must  be  the 
right  one.  If  it  had  been  the  other  lady  who  came 


566     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

first  to  the  house,  I  should  not  have  believed  she  was 
the  Captain's  Signorina.  It  is  very  strange,  but  her 
eyes  are  the  eyes  of  my  aunt  who  is  the  witch.  I 
hope  the  Signorina  will  not  be  offended  with  me  for 
saying  this  of  her  friend,  for  I  can  not  help  remark- 
ing it.  My  aunt  is  not  old,  though  older  than  that 
Signora.  And  she  is  handsome;  but  of  course  the 
Signora  is  much  handsomer  and  grander  than  a 
poor  peasant  woman." 

"I  think,"  said  Mary,  willing  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, "that  we  had  better  see  our  rooms,  and  have 
the  fires  lighted.  Give  my  friends  the  best  there  is 
-  two  rooms  adjoining,  and  I  will  take  what  is  left. 
We  shall  stay  with  you  a  few  days  —  perhaps  more. 
We  can't  settle  our  plans  quite  yet." 

"The  longer,  the  better  for  me,  Signorina," 
Apollonia  replied.  She  smiled  at  her  new  mistress; 
but  when  her  look  turned  to  Lady  Dauntrey  she 
secretly  "made  horns"  with  the  first  and  last  fingers 
of  the  hand  that  held  the  dog;  the  sign  which  Italians 
and  Arabs  use  to  keep  off  the  evil  eye. 

She  opened  doors,  holding  her  smoky  lamp  high, 
and  with  the  air  of  a  hospitable  queen  (such  as  most 
Italian  peasant  women  have),  she  showed  to  the 
Signorina  the  splendours  of  her  domain.  They  were, 
to  be  sure,  but  tarnished  and  dilapidated  splendours, 
nevertheless  Mary  began  to  understand  even  in  the 
gloom  of  night  how  these  great  rooms,  peopled  now 
with  shadows,  had  appealed  to  Hannaford.  She 
could  guess  what  the  view  from  windows  and  garden 
must  be  like,  and  had  she  come  to  the  house  in  hap- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     567 

pier  circumstances  she  would  have  looked  forward 
to  seeing  everything  in  morning  sunshine.  As  it 
was,  she  wished  for  one  thing  only:  for  the  moment 
when  she  could  be  alone,  to  think,  and  write  her 
letter  to  Vanno. 

Mary  and  her  guests  refused  food  but  accepted 
coffee,  made  quickly  and  well  by  Apollonia.  They 
drank  from  cracked  or  chipped  but  beautiful  cups  of 
old  Sevres,  and  shivered  in  an  immense  Empire 
dining-room,  while  Apollonia  lighted  fires  and 
warmed  beds  in  the  "best  rooms'*  upstairs,  which 
they  had  not  yet  mustered  courage  to  visit.  Lady 
Dauntrey  became  more  cheerful  over  the  hot  coffee, 
and  atoned  to  her  husband  for  past  taunts  and  re- 
proaches by  a  manner  of  almost  deprecating  affec- 
tion. Mary  had  never  seen  her  so  soft  and  sweet. 
She  was  a  different  woman,  and  even  her  expression 
was  changed.  The  girl  could  not  help  remembering 
what  Apollonia  had  said  about  the  "witch-eyes"; 
but  she  thought  the  Italian  would  not  have  found  a 
likeness  to  the  terrible  aunt  could  she  now  have 
seen  Lady  Dauntrey  for  the  first  time.  Mary  was 
glad  of  the  change  for  Lord  Dauntrey's  sake,  because, 
though  he  was  weak,  perhaps  unworthy,  she  pitied 
him  with  a  pity  akin  to  pain. 

When  Apollonia  came  back  to  say  that  all  was 
ready  for  the  night,  the  three  followed  her  up  the 
wide  and  beautifully  designed  marble  staircase  which 
led  to  the  first  and  second  stories. 

There  was  no  question  of  choice  in  apportioning 
the  three  "best  rooms,"  prepared  for  occupation, 


568     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

because  two  adjoined  each  other,  with  a  door  be- 
tween; and  these  suggested  themselves  naturally  for 
Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey.  The  third  and  smaller 
room  was  at  a  distance,  and  had  only  one  door, 
which  opened  to  the  hall;  but  there  was  a  great 
French  window  leading  to  a  balcony  and  evidently 
looking  southward,  over  the  slopes  of  the  garden 
down  to  the  sea. 

"This  was  the  room  the  poor  Captain  loved," 
Apollonia  announced;  "therefore  it  is  right  the 
Signorina  should  have  it  for  her  own.  He  hoped 
she  might  choose  it,  I  know.  Sometimes  he  spent  a 
night  here,  toward  the  last.  Perhaps  he  can  see  the 
Signorina  at  this  moment,  and  if  he  can,  I  am  sure  he 
is  very  happy." 

Had  there  been  a  possibility  of  changing  from  that 
room  to  any  other  in  the  house,  even  the  worst  and 
meanest,  Mary  would  have  changed  gladly;  but  she 
could  not  take  one  of  the  rooms  she  had  given  the 
Dauntreys;  and  to  order  another  got  ready  would 
have  seemed  heartless  to  Apollonia,  whose  quick 
intuition  would  have  told  her  the  reason. 

Mary  resigned  herself  to  sleep  in  the  room  where 
Hannaford  had  thought  and  dreamed  of  her. 

When  they  had  bidden  their  hostess  good-night, 
and  their  doors  were  locked,  Lord  and  Lady  Daun- 
trey stood  together  for  a  moment  at  one  of  the  long 
windows  of  the  larger  room.  This  Eve  had  taken, 
and  on  the  bed  with  the  high,  carved  walnut  back 
lay  the  night-dress  borrowed  from  Alary.  Through 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  569 

torn  clouds  a  few  stars  glittered  like  coins  in  a 
gashed  purse,  and  very  far  away  to  the  west,  at  the 
end  of  all  things  visible,  was  a  faint,  ghostly  gleam 
which  meant  the  dazzling  lights  of  the  Casino  and 
its  terrace,  at  Monte  Carlo. 

Lady  Dauntrey  rested  against  her  husband's 
shoulder,  as  if  his  companionship  were  dear  and 
essential  to  her.  She  had  done  this  often  before 
their  marriage  and  shortly  after;  but  not  once  for 
many  months  now.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could 
remember  every  one  of  the  caresses  which  had  bound 
him  to  her  as  with  ropes  from  which  he  could  not,  and 
did  not  desire  to,  escape.  A  long  time  ago  in  South 
Africa,  when  she  had  first  made  him  love  her,  she 
had  been  pleased  when  he  called  her  his  "beautiful 
tigress."  She  had  kissed  him  for  the  name,  and  said 
that  of  all  animals  she  adored  tigers;  that  she  be- 
lieved she  had  been  a  tigress  once;  and  when  they 
were  rich  —  as  they  would  be  some  time  —  he  must 
buy  her  a  splendid  tiger  skin  to  lie  on.  This  very 
day  the  tigress  thought  of  her  had  been  in  his  heart, 
but  not  as  a  loving  fancy.  She  had  seemed  to  him 
cruel  and  terrible  as  a  hungry  animal  despising  her 
mate  because  he  fails  to  bring  her  prey  as  food.  He 
had  said  to  himself  in  shame  and  desolation  of  soul 
that  she  had  never  cared  for  him  really,  but  only 
for  what  he  might  give;  and  because  he  had  dis- 
appointed her,  giving  little,  she  hated  and  would 
perhaps  leave  him,  to  better  herself.  Now  the  touch 
of  her  shoulder  against  his  breast,  and  the  tired, 
childlike  tucking  of  her  head  into  his  neck,  warmed 


570     THE    GUESTS    OF     HERCULES 

his  blood  that  had  run  sluggishly  and  cold  as  the 
blood  of  a  prisoner  in  a  cell.  New  courage  flowed 
back  to  his  heart.  Vague  thoughts  of  suicide 
flapped  away  like  night-birds  with  the  coming  of 
light.  If  Eve  cared  for  him  still  he  had  the  incentive 
to  live. 

"That  place  seems  to  haunt  us,"  she  murmured, 
as  they  stood  together  in  seeming  love  and  need  of 
one  another.  He  knew  what  she  meant.  Their 
eyes  were  on  the  distant  glimmer  of  Monte  Carlo. 
"Its  influence  follows  us.'* 

"From  here  the  lights  look  pure  white,  like  the 
lights  of  some  mysterious  paradise,  seen  far  off  across 
the  sea,"  Dauntrey  said. 

"No,"  his  wife  answered;  "to  me  they're  more 
like  the  light  that  comes  out  of  graves  at  night  time; 
the  strange,  phosphorescent  light  of  decayed,  dead 
things.  We've  done  with  that  lure  light  forever, 
haven't  we?" 

"I  suppose  so!"  A  sigh  of  yearning  and  regret 
heaved  his  breast,  under  the  nestling  head.  "If 
you're  going  to  be  kind  to  me  again,  Eve,  I  can  do 
anything  and  go  anywhere." 

"Good!"  she  said  in  the  soft,  purring  tone  which 
had  made  him  think  of  her  as  a  beautiful  tigress, 
when  their  life  together  lay  before  them.  "I  will  be 
kind,  very  kind,  if  only  you'll  prove  that  you  really 
love  me.  You  never  have  proved  it  yet." 

"Haven't  I?  I  thought  I  had,  often  —  to-day, 
even " 

"Oh!  don't  let's  go  back  to  that.     I  can't  bear 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     571 

to  think  of  it.  We  weren't  ourselves  —  either  of  us. 
If  I  was  cross,  forgive  me,  dear." 

"I  deserved  it  all,*'  he  said,  pressing  her  against 
his  side.  "Now  you're  making  me  a  man  again." 

"You  must  be  a  man  —  a  strong  man  —  if  you 
want  me  to  love  you  as  I  once  did,  and  as  I  can  love. 
Oh,  and  I  can  —  I  can  love!  You  don't  know  yet 
how  much." 

"What  shall  I  have  to  do?"  he  asked.  "Do  you 
mean  anything  in  particular,  or  — 

"Yes,  I  mean  something  in  particular." 

"I'll  do  it,  darling,  whatever  it  may  be.  I  feel 
the  strength." 

She  wrapped  him  in  her  arms  and  clung  to  him, 
talking  softly,  with  her  lips  against  his  hollowed 
cheek,  so  that  her  breath  fluttered  softly  past  it  with 
each  half -whispered  word. 

"That's  a  promise,"  she  said.  "I  won't  let  you 
break  it.  But  you  won't  want  to  break  it.  I'll 
love  you  so  much  —  enough  to  make  up  for  every- 
thing. Enough  to  keep  you  from  remembering  those 
lights  over  there." 

"They're  nothing  to  me,"  he  assured  her.  " I  don't 
believe  I'll  ever  want  to  see  them  again.  There  are 
other  places  where  I  can  do  better  than  at  Monte 
Carlo.  Baccarat's  a  safer  game  than  roulette  or 
trente  et  quarante,  I  begin  to  think,  and  I  could 
adapt  the  system " 

"Never  mind  the  system  now!  You'll  have  to 
go  back  to  Monte  to-morrow  to  get  your  eighty 
pounds,  and  a  cheque  cashed  for  Mary  Grant  —  a 


572     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

big  one,  I  hope.  Then  you  can  redeem  some  of 
our  things.  One  trunk  for  each  of  us  will  be  enough, 
for  I  want  to  go  a  long  way  off  and  travel  quickly." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  Dauntrey  asked, 
indulgently,  in  a  dreaming  voice,  as  if  her  love  and 
the  force  of  her  fierce  vitality  were  hypnotizing  him. 
He  spoke  as  if  he  were  so  near  happiness  again  that 
he  would  gladly  go  anywhere,  to  find  it  once  more 
with  Eve. 

"I,  haven't  made  up  my  mind  about  that  yet." 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  had!  You  always  make  up 
your  mind  so  quickly  when  you  want  anything." 

"I've  been  putting  my  mind  to  what  we  must  do 
first,  before  we  go  away.  There  is  a  thing  to  do;  and 
it  will  have  to  be  done  soon,  or  it  will  be  too  late." 

Her  tone  was  suddenly  sharp  as  a  knife  rubbed 
against  steel. 

"What  thing?"  her  husband  asked,  startled  out 
of  his  dream. 

Instantly  she  softened  again  and  clung  to  him 
and  round  him  more  closely  than  before.  ' '  Darling, ' ' 
she  said,  "you've  just  told  me  that  you'd  do  any- 
thing for  my  sake." 

"So  I  would.    So  I  will." 

"Sometimes  men  are  ready  to  do  anything  except 
the  one  thing  the  women  who  love  them  ask  them  to 
do." 

"It  won't  be  like  that  with  me,  Eve.  Try  me  and 
see." 

"I  will.  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  far,  far  away, 
where  we've  never  been  before,  to  make  a  new  life, 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  573 

and  belong  only  to  each  other.  But  before  we  go, 
so  that  we  can  be  happy  and  not  wretched,  miser- 
able beggars,  we  —  not  you  alone  —  but  we  two 
together  must  do  what  will  give  us  money  to  start 
all  over  again.  And  listen  to  this,  dearest :  it  will  be 
a  thing  which  will  draw  us  so  closely  together  that 
we'll  be  one  in  body  and  soul  forever  and  ever,  in 
this  world  and  the  next." 

"You  almost  frighten  me,"  Dauntrey said. 

"Don't  be  frightened,"  she  implored,  her  mouth 
close  to  his.     "If  you're  frightened,  you'll  fail  me  — 
and  then  it's  all  over  between  us." 

"All  over  between  us!" 

"Yes,  because  if  you  fail,  you  break  your  solemn 
promise,  and  you're  not  the  man  I  thought  you  were 
—  not  the  man  I  can  love.  I'll  go  out  of  your  life 
and  find  some  one  who  is  stronger,  because  I've  got 
too  much  love  in  me  to  waste." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"To  find  a  plan,  at  once  —  to-morrow,  after  you 
come  back  —  for  us  to  get  Mary  Grant's  jewels  and 
all  the  money  you  bring  to  her  from  Monte  Carlo, 
and  then  to  go  safely  away  —  together,  where  we  can 
be  happy." 

"Good  God!"  He  broke  loose  from  her  clinging 
arms,  and  pushed  her  off.  "  You  want  me  to  murder 
the  girl!" 

They  faced  one  another  in  the  dreary  glimmer  of 
the  two  candles.  For  an  instant  neither  spoke,  but 
each  could  hear  the  other  breathing  in  the  semi- 
darkness. 


574     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"What  a  horrible  thought!"  Eve  flung  herself 
upon  him  again  and  caught  his  hands,  which  had 
been  hot  as  they  clasped  hers  but  had  suddenly 
grown  cold,  as  a  stone  is  chilled  when  the  sun  leaves 
it  in  shadow.  He  did  not  snatch  his  hands  away, 
but  they  gave  no  answering  pressure.  He  bowed 
his  head  like  a  man  who  is  very  tired,  having  come  to 
the  end  of  his  strength. 

"Have  we  sunk  to  this?"  he  groaned  under  his 
breath,  yet  Eve  caught  the  words. 

"Wait!  You've  misunderstood  me,"  she  reas- 
sured him  eagerly.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  —  take  her 
life.  Only  —  we  must  have  money,  and  those  jewels 
of  hers  —  she  doesn't  need  them.  We  do.  And 
we're  meant  to  have  them,  else  why  should  we  have 
been  thrown  in  her  way  just  at  the  right  moment? 
Why  should  we  be  now  in  this  lonely  house,  no  one 
knowing  that  we're  here?  It's  Destiny.  I  saw 
that  when  she  spoke  about  the  jewel-case.  Didn't 
you  guess  what  was  in  my  mind?" 

"I  was  past  guessing,"  Dauntrey  said.  "I  had 
enough  to  think  of  without  putting  problems  to 
myself." 

"It's  lucky  my  brain  kept  awake.  That  was  why 
I  proposed  driving  here  instead  of  coming  by  train, 
where  somebody  might  have  seen  us:  that  was  why 
I  wouldn't  call  for  the  luggage  at  Mrs.  Winter's." 

"Do  you  dream  for  a  moment  that  if  —  if  there 
were  any  inquiry  the  police  wouldn't  be  able  find  out 
we  were  in  this  thing?"  Dauntrey  asked  in  bitter 
impatience.  "How  like  a  woman!" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     575 

"I'm  not  so  simple.  If  we're  clever,  there  won't 
be  an  inquiry.  And  even  if  there  were  any  accident, 
we  should  be  all  right.  There'd  be  nothing  against 
us.  And  we'd  be  out  of  the  way  before  the  fuss 
began.  They  couldn't  even  get  at  us  as  witnesses." 

"What's  in  your  mind?  You  talk  as  if  you  had 
some  definite  plan." 

"I  have.  But  it  depends  on  you.  Surely  with 
all  your  knowledge,  you  know  a  drug  that  can 
temporarily  weaken  a  person's  will?  There  must  be 
something  that  girl  could  take  which  would  make 
her  willing  to  follow  our  suggestions?  She's  in  such 
a  nervous  condition,  a  sudden  illness  would  seem 
quite  natural.  Once  she  was  in  the  right  state,  I 
could  persuade  her  to  give  us  her  jewels  and  some 
cheque.  Then  we  wouldn't  let  the  grass  grow  under 
our  feet.  We'd  be  off  —  and  in  no  danger." 

"There's  no  drug  of  that  sort,"  said  Dauntrey. 

"I  don't  believe  you.  Oh,  say  there  is!  I  don't 
know  what  I  may  be  driven  to  do,  with  my  own 
hands,  if  you  refuse  to  help  me." 

"I  tell  you  there's  no  such  thing  —  that  isn't 
dangerous  to  life." 

She  caught  at  this  admission.  "What  is  the  thing 
in  your  mind?"  she  whispered  tensely. 

"A  plant  that  grows  in  this  garden,"  he  admitted 
sullenly.  "You  must  have  smelt  the  perfume  when 
we  drove  in." 

"Datura!  I  remember.  The  Kaffirs  make  a 
decoction  of  it  in  South  Africa.  They  think  it's  a 
love  potion." 


576     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  mean.  There  are  two  ways 
of  using  it.  One  way  it's  a  deadly  poison.  The 
other  makes  those  who  take  the  stuff  stupid.  But 
even  so  it's  dangerous.  I've  seen  one  or  two  victims 
of  that  experiment  who  didn't  come  back  to  their 
senses,  but  remained  dull  and  melancholy,  caring 
for  nothing  and  nobody." 

"That's  a  risk  we  must  run,"  said  Eve,  with  the 
briskness  of  hope  and  a  decision  arrived  at.  "It's 
simply  providential!" 

"Good  Lord,  what  a  word  to  use!" 

"It  slipped  out.  I  suppose,  after  all,  I'm  con- 
ventional. Providence  and  destiny  are  the  same. 
Think  how  everything  has  worked  up  to  this.  Even 
the  datura  in  the  garden!" 

"It  can  stay  there!"  Dauntrey  blurted  out, 
savagely. 

With  a  hand  on  each  of  his  shoulders,  she  held  her- 
self off  from  her  husband  at  arm's  length,  looking  him 
straight  in  the  eyes  with  her  level,  compelling  gaze. 

"I  swear  to  you,"  she  said  slowly,  giving  each 
word  its  full  value,  "that  if  you  won't  do  this  for 
me,  I  will  kill  Mary  Grant,  and  go  away  with  her 
jewels,  to  lead  my  own  life  without  you.  If  you 
choose  you  can  denounce  me.  But  in  no  other 
way,  unless  you  help,  and  so  save  her  life,  can  you 
prevent  me  from  keeping  my  word.  I  love  you 
now,  and  if  you're  brave  enough  to  get  fortune  and 
a  new  start  for  us  at  this  small  risk,  I'll  love  you  all 
the  rest  of  my  life  as  no  woman  ever  loved  a  man. 
If  not " 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     577 

"I'll  do  it!"  he  answered,  the  blood  streaming  up 
to  his  face. 

She  laced  her  fingers  round  his  neck  and  drew  him 
against  her  bosom.  For  a  moment  they  stood  thus, 
very  still,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  her  lips 
pressed  to  his. 


XXXVI 

AT  LAST  Mary  had  time  to  think,  and  to  write  to 
Vanno. 

In  her  dressing-bag,  which  the  caretaker  had 
carried  up  to  her  room,  were  writing  materials.  On 
a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  the  best  lamp 
in  the  house.  Apollonia  had  brought  it  to  the 
beloved  Signorina,  as  her  ancestresses  in  the  wild 
mountain  village  might  have  laid  offerings  on  Baal's 
shrine.  The  new  mistress  was  to  have  all  the  most 
beautiful  and  desirable  things  that  the  house  could 
provide  —  was  to  have  them  in  spite  of  herself;  for 
Apollonia's  heart  held  no  warmth  for  those  friends 
whom  the  Signorina  had  placed  in  the  best  rooms. 

Mary  was  not  conscious  of  fatigue,  yet  she  sat 
with  her  elbows  resting  heavily  on  the  table,  her 
chin  in  her  hands.  The  lamp  stood  at  the  left  side; 
and  in  front  was  the  great  uncurtained  window.  As 
her  eyes  looked  to  the  stars,  it  was  as  if  their  eyes 
flashed  brightly  back,  through  rents  in  the  black  veil 
of  cloud. 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  Vanno?"  she  asked  herself. 

The  first  hopefulness  grasped  as  a  crutch  for 
failing  courage  had  broken  down  hours  ago.  At 
best  it  had  been  something  unseen  to  which  she 
might  cling  in  the  dark.  She  had  said:  "By  and 

578 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     579 

by  I  shall  know  what  to  do.  I  won't  give  him  up. 
I  shall  tell  him  I'm  innocent.  He'll  believe  in  me 
without  any  proof."  But  now  she  was  face  to  face 
with  the  great  question,  and  must  meet  point  after 
point  as  it  was  presented  to  her  mind. 

She  had  promised  Marie  to  keep  the  secret.  She 
had  sworn  by  her  love  for  Vanno  and  Vanno's  love 
for  her  that  she  would  not  tell  him  nor  any  one;  that 
she  would  not  even  speak  out  in  confession  to  a 
priest.  Yes!  But  when  she  promised  she  did  not 
dream  that  her  whole  future  happiness  and  perhaps 
Vanno's  would  depend  upon  the  issue.  Surely  she 
could  not  be  expected  to  sacrifice  everything  for 
Marie,  who  had  betrayed  her,  who  had  made  the 
cruellest  use  of  a  friend's  loyalty.  The  most  severe 
judge  would  grant  the  right  to  tell  Vanno  the  history 
of  this  day:  what  Marie  had  done;  and  how  in  spite 
of  all,  even  when  Angelo  insulted  her,  she,  Mary, 
had  kept  silence  for  the  sake  of  the  family  honour 
and  peace. 

The  girl  told  herself  this;  but  deep  down,  under 
the  repeated  assurances  which  she  forced  upon  her 
conscience,  a  whisper  made  itself  clearly  heard. 
"Even  if  you  have  this  right,"  the  voice  said,  "will 
it  bring  you  happiness  to  use  it?  Think  what  it 
means.  You  tell  Vanno  that  his  brother's  wife  is  a 
woman  who  sinned  before  her  marriage  and  deceived 
her  husband.  That  she  lied  and  let  you  suffer  for 
her  sake,  rather  than  Angelo  should  find  out  what 
she  was;  that  Angelo  insulted  you,  saying  you  were 
no  fit  companion  for  his  wife,  whom  you  had  saved; 


580     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

that  because  of  his  insults  you  had  to  leave  his  house. 
When  Vanno  hears  these  things  from  you  he  will 
believe  them,  and,  besides,  they  can  very  well  be 
proved.  But  can  you  make  up  to  him  by  your  love 
for  all  he  will  have  to  lose?  He  will  not  consent  to 
let  you  suffer  for  Marie.  He  will  insist  on  proving 
to  Angelo  which  of  the  two  is  guilty.  The  brothers 
will  hate  each  other.  Marie  perhaps  may  kill  her- 
self. The  Duke  will  know  that  Vanno  and  Angelo 
have  quarrelled  hopelessly,  even  if  he  learns  no  more 
than  that.  The  family  life  which  has  been  happy 
will  be  embittered  —  through  you.  On  the  other 
hand,  Vanno  will  have  nothing  but  your  love." 

All  this  the  voice  said,  and  Mary  had  no  argument 
with  which  to  talk  it  down. 

There  was  one  alternative,  and  she  turned  to  it 
desperately:  She  could  write,  or  even  telegraph 
Vanno,  saying,  "Come  to  me  before  you  see  Angelo. 
I  have  something  to  tell  you."  He  would  come, 
and  she  could  say,  "Your  Cousin  Idina  Bland  tried 
to  ruin  Marie  with  her  husband.  There  was  a  story 
about  a  girl  who  had  been  at  the  convent  where  I 
was  brought  up.  Marie  said  it  must  be  true  not  of 
her  but  of  me,  if  it  were  true  at  all.  The  only  part 
really  true  is  that  I  was  at  the  Convent  of  St.  Ursula- 
of-the-Lake.  I  did  none  of  the  things  Angelo  may 
tell  you  I  did.  Do  you  love  me  enough  and  want 
me  enough  to  take  me  without  proof  of  what  I  say? 
Because  I  have  a  good  reason  for  not  even  trying 
to  give  any  proof." 

This  would  seem  very  strange  to  Vanno  —  that 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     581 

she  should  have  a  good  reason  for  not  trying  to  prove 
her  truth;  but  Mary  thought,  now  that  he  knew  her 
well  and  loved  her  well,  he  would  take  her  in  spite  of 
all,  rather  than  give  her  up.  But  —  could  she  let 
him  take  her  in  that  way? 

No  matter  how  great  his  love,  the  question  must 
creep  into  his  mind  sometimes:  "What  if  she  is  the 
woman  Angelo  thinks  her?  What  if  she  has  made  a 
fool  of  me?"  Such  thoughts,  even  though  thrust 
out  by  him  with  violence,  must  mingle  poison  with 
his  happiness,  and  at  last  cloud  the  brightness  of 
his  love.  Besides,  they  two  would  have  to  live  apart 
from  his  people.  If  she  were  Vanno's  wife,  he  and 
Angelo  could  not  be  friends. 

It  began  to  seem,  after  all,  as  if  there  were  no  way 
out.  Whether  she  kept  her  word  to  Marie  or  broke 
it,  as  Marie  deserved,  never,  it  seemed,  could  she 
and  Vanno  know  untroubled  happiness  together. 
The  music  of  their  love  must  at  best  be  jarred 
by  discords:  and  looking  to  the  stars  behind  the 
drifting  clouds,  Mary  told  herself  with  a  bursting 
heart  that  it  would  be  kinder  to  break  with  Vanno 
now. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  at  the  table  without  mov- 
ing, her  chin  in  her  hands,  her  eyes  always  on  the 
window.  The  fire  of  wood  which  Apollonia  had 
lighted  died  down  to  a  heap  of  red-jewelled  ashes. 
The  room,  long  unused  and  but  superficially  heated, 
became  cold  with  the  harsh,  relentless  cold  of  a  vault. 
Mary's  body  lost  its  warmth,  and  grew  chill  as 
marble.  When  she  was  ready  to  write  she  could 


582     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

scarcely  move  her  hands,  but  she  warmed  her  fingers 
by  breathing  upon  them,  and  at  last  began  her  letter 
to  Vanno. 

Dearest  of  all  you  will  be  to  me  forever  [she  wrote],  but 
something  has  happened  which  must  part  us.  Your  brother 
will  explain,  in  his  way.  It  is  not  my  way;  but  there  are 
reasons  why  I  must  not  explain  at  all,  except  to  say  to  you, 
dearest,  that  I  am  the  Mary  of  your  love,  not  the  Mary  your 
brother  thinks  me.  None  of  those  things  which  he  will  tell 
you,  have  I  done.  But  I  have  thought  a  great  deal,  and  I 
have  prayed  to  be  wise  for  you,  even  more  than  for  myself. 
At  first  I  felt  I  could  not  give  you  up;  but  now  I  see  that  it  will 
be  better  for  us  to  part,  rather  than  for  me  to  take  you  selfishly 
away  from  your  family.  You  love  me,  I  know,  and  this  will 
hurt  you.  I  think  you  will  say  that  I  am  wrong;  but  by  and 
by  you  will  realize  that  what  I  do  is  for  the  best. 

My  only  love,  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  and  so  I  ask  you  to 
forget  me.  Not  quite,  perhaps!  I  couldn't  bear  that;  but  all 
I  will  let  myself  wish  for  is  a  sweet  memory  without  pain. 
Don't  try  to  find  me.  I  must  not  change  my  mind,  and  it 
would  be  agony  to  part  from  you  if  I  saw  your  face  and  your 
dear  eyes.  It  is  easier  and  better  this  way.  And  I  am  going 
to  a  place  where  I  shall  be  as  happy  as  I  can  ever  be  without 
you. 

I  shall  not  send  back  your  ring,  for  I  know  you  would  like 
me  to  keep  it;  and  please  keep  the  few  little  things  I  have 
given  you,  unless  you  would  rather  not  be  reminded  of  me  by 
them. 

I  cannot  send  you  my  heart,  because  it  is  with  you  already 
and  will  be  always. 

MARY. 

She  was  crying  as  she  finished  the  letter,  and  the 
tears  were  hot  on  her  cold  cheeks.  She  tried  not  to 
let  them  fall  on  the  paper,  for  she  did  not  want  Vanno 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     583 

to  know  how  she  suffered.  If  he  realized  that  her 
heart  was  breaking  for  him,  he  might  search  for  her. 
She  was  afraid  of  herself  when  she  thought  what  it 
would  be  like  to  resist  the  pleading  of  his  voice,  his 
arms,  his  eyes  —  "those  stars  of  love,"  as  Marie 
had  said. 

The  best  way  to  prevent  Vanno  from  guessing 
where  she  had  gone  would  be  to  have  her  letter 
posted  by  Lord  Dauntrey  in  Monte  Carlo  to-morrow. 
And  instead  of  sending  it  to  Rome,  she  would  address 
it  to  him  at  Cap  Martin.  Then  he  would  not  have 
it  until  he  came  back  to  Angelo's  house;  and  if  he 
meant  to  disobey  and  look  for  her,  days  must  pass 
before  he  was  likely  to  learn  of  her  whereabouts. 
She  believed  that  no  one  who  knew  her  face  had  seen 
her  in  the  carriage,  driving  to  Italy.  She  was  more 
safely  hidden  than  if  she  had  come  to  the  Chateau 
Lontana  by  train;  and  she  had  told  Vanno  and  others 
that  she  disliked  the  idea  of  living  in  Hannaford's 
house.  Before  any  one  thought  of  this  place,  she 
would  perhaps  have  gone;  and  though  when  she 
began  Vanno's  letter  she  had  not  decided  where  to 
go,  before  she  finished  her  mind  was  made  up.  The 
one  spot  in  which  she  could  endure  to  live  out  the 
rest  of  her  life  was  the  Convent  of  St.  Ursula-of-the- 
Lake. 

"I  ought  never  to  have  come  away,"  she  said. 
Yet  not  at  the  price  of  twice  this  suffering  —  if  she 
could  suffer  more  —  would  she  blot  out  from  her 
soul  the  experience  life  had  given  her.  Maybe,  she 
thought,  the  blow  that  shattered  her  love-story  and 


584    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

her  happiness  was  a  punishment  for  weakness  in 
longing  for  the  world.  Yet  if  it  were  a  punishment 
she  was  ready  to  kiss  the  rod,  since  she  might  hold 
forever  the  memory  of  Vanno  and  his  love. 

She  fastened  up  her  letter  to  him  lest  she  should 
be  tempted  to  add  other  words  to  those  which  might 
on  second  reading  seem  cold.  God  knew  if  she  were 
cold!  But  Vanno  might  suffer  less  if  he  believed 
her  so. 

By  and  by,  when  something  like  calmness  came  to 
her  again,  she  began  another  letter.  It  was  to 
Reverend  Mother  at  the  convent.  The  last  time 
Mary  wrote  she  had  told  of  her  engagement,  and  her 
happiness.  Reverend  Mother  had  written  back,  for- 
giving and  understanding  her  long  silence  —  a  loving 
letter,  rejoicing  in  her  joy;  and  it  was  in  Mary's 
writing  case  at  this  moment,  for  she  had  intended 
to  keep  it  always.  But  she  could  not  have  borne 
the  pain  of  rereading  it  now,  over  the  dead  body  of 
her  happiness.  She  wrote  quickly,  not  pausing 
between  words  and  sentences,  as  in  writing  to  Vanno. 
She  told  Reverend  Mother  nothing  of  the  story,  but 
said  that  she  was  ending  her  engagement  with 
Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia.  "It  is  not  because 
I  don't  love  him,"  she  explained,  "but  because  I 
love  him  so  dearly  I  want  to  do  what  is  best  for  his 
whole  life.  I  know  that  I  shall  love  him  always.  I 
can  no  more  forget  him  than  I  can  forget  that  I  have 
a  heart  which  must  go  on  beating  while  I  live.  But 
if  you  don't  think  a  love  like  this  —  expecting, 
hoping  for  no  return  —  too  worldly,  oh,  Reverend 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     585 

Mother,  will  you  let  me  come  back  to  you  and  take 
the  vows  after  all?  I  feel  the  convent  is  the  only 
home  for  me;  and  I  believe  I  am  capable  of  higher, 
nobler  aims  because  of  what  I  have  been  taught  by 
a  great  love.  I  yearn  to  be  with  you  now,  I  am  so 
homesick!  I  will  go  through  any  penance,  even  if 
it  be  years  long,  if  at  the  end  you  will  accept  me  for 
your  daughter.  I  beg  of  you  to  write  at  once,  and 
say  if  you  will  have  me  again.  If  your  answer  be 
yes,  I  will  start  immediately.  I  can  hardly  wait." 
As  she  folded  the  letter  she  remembered  how 
Hannaford  had  told  the  story  of  Galatea,  likening 
her  to  the  statue  which  had  been  given  life  without 
knowledge  of  the  world.  It  was  almost  as  if  his 
voice  spoke  to  her  now,  in  this  room  he  had  loved, 
answering  when  she  asked  what  became  of  Galatea 
in  the  end.  "  She  went  back  to  be  a  statue."  "That 
is  what  I  shall  do,"  Mary  said.  "I  shall  go  back 
into  the  marble." 

All  night  long  the  mistral  blew;  and  "out  of  the 
fall  of  lonely  seas  and  the  wind's  sorrow,"  the  lullaby 
Hannaford  had  desired  for  his  ashes  was  sung  under 
the  rock  where,  already,  his  urn  was  enshrined. 

At  dawn  the  wild  wailing  ceased  suddenly,  as  if 
the  wind  had  drowned  itself  in  the  ocean;  and  Mary 
went  out  on  to  her  balcony,  in  the  dead  silence  which 
was  like  peace  after  war.  The  hollow  bell  of  the 
sky,  swept  clear  of  clouds  by  the  steel  broom  of  the 
mistral,  blazed  with  blue  fire,  and  the  sea  was  so 
crystal  pure  that  it  seemed  one  might  look  down 


586     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

through  violet  depths  into  the  caves  of  the  mer- 
people.  The  still  air  was  very  cold;  and  it  seemed 
to  Mary  that  if  the  joy  of  life  were  not  exhausted 
for  her,  she  might  have  felt  excited  and  exuberantly 
happy,  alone  with  the  lovely  miracle  of  this  new 
day.  As  it  was,  she  felt  curiously  calm,  almost 
resigned  to  the  thought  that  her  heart,  like  a  clock, 
had  run  down  at  the  last  hour  of  its  happiness.  She 
said  to  herself  that  Nemesis  had  brought  her  to  this 
house,  and  there  made  her  lay  down  her  hopes  of 
love.  She  had  accepted  much  from  Captain  Hanna- 
ford,  and  had  thought  of  him  hardly  at  all.  Now,  it 
was  almost  as  if  she  were  offering  this  sacrifice  to 
him.  "It  is  Destiny,"  she  said,  as  Eve  Dauntrey 
had  said  a  few  hours  ago. 

The  tired  sea  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  was  breathing 
deeply  in  its  dreams,  but  to  Mary  it  was  not  the  same 
happy  sea  that  she  had  looked  out  upon  from  her 
window  at  Rose  Winter's,  and  at  the  Villa  Mirasole. 
The  little  mumbling,  baby  mouths  of  the  breathing 
waves  bit  toothlessly  upon  the  rocks.  Mary  pitied 
the  faintly  heaving  swells  because  they  were  to  her 
fancy  like  wretched  drowning  animals,  trying  vainly 
forever  to  crawl  up  on  land,  and  forever  falling 
back. 

"When  I  am  in  the  convent,  if  Reverend  Mother 
will  take  me  in,  I  shall  never  look  at  the  sea  again," 
she  thought,  "yet  I  shall  always  hear  it  in  my  heart, 
remembering  last  night  and  to-day.  After  this  I 
shall  be  only  a  hollow  shell  full  of  memories,  as  a 
shell  is  full  of  the  voice  of  the  sea." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     587 

Lady  Dauntrey  dared  not  let  her  husband  take 
Mary's  letters  to  the  post  until  she  had  steamed  the 
envelopes,  and  read  what  the  girl  had  to  say.  If  she 
had  herself  dictated  those  farewell  words  to  Prince 
Vanno,  they  could  not  have  suited  her  better;  and 
there  was  nothing  objectionable  in  the  appeal  to 
Reverend  Mother  at  the  Scotch  convent.  Only, 
perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  keep  back  that  letter 
for  a  day  or  two.  The  one  to  Vanno  Lord  Dauntrey 
carried  with  him  to  Monte  Carlo,  and  posted  it  there 
according  to  Mary's  wish. 


XXXVII 

ONE  afternoon  of  pouring  rain  a  two-horse,  covered 
cab  from  Monte  Carlo  splashed  in  at  the  gate 
of  Stellamare,  turned  noisily  on  the  wet  gravel,  and 
stopped  in  front  of  Jim  Schuyler's  marble  portico. 
There  was  luggage  on  the  cab;  and  from  the  vehicle, 
with  rain  pelting  on  her  head,  descended  a  girl  in  a 
brown  travelling  dress. 

The  butler,  who  acted  also  as  valet  for  Jim,  was 
engaged  in  packing  for  his  master,  who  intended  to 
leave  for  America  next  day.  A  servant  (new  to 
the  house)  answered  the  door  and  regarded  the 
visitor  with  round  eyes  of  astonishment.  Few  callers 
came  to  Stellamare,  as  Schuyler  seldom  received 
those  whom  he  had  not  specially  invited,  and  never 
had  the  footman  seen  a  woman  arrive  alone. 

"Is  Mr.  Schuyler  at  home?"  the  girl  asked  briskly, 
in  English.  The  young  man  looked  helpless,  and 
she  repeated  the  question  in  French. 

"Not  at  home,  Mademoiselle,"  the  reply  came 
promptly. 

"I  know  he  is  always  officially  out,"  said  the 
visitor.  "But  if  he  is  in  the  house  he  will  see  me. 
I  am  his  cousin,  and  I've  just  arrived  from  Scotland. 
Tell  him,  please,  that  Miss  Maxwell  has  come." 

"And  the  baggage,  Mademoiselle?"  the  stricken 

588 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     589 

man  inquired.  "Am  I  to  have  it  taken  down? 
Monsieur  leaves  for  America  to-morrow." 

"The  baggage  can  stay  where  it  is  for  the  present," 
said  Peter.  "  You  may  show  me  into  the  library." 

"But  Monsieur  is  there." 

"All  the  better.  Then  I  will  give  him  a  surprise. 
You  needn't  be  afraid.  He  won't  be  angry  with 
you." 

The  footman,  having  already  observed  that  the 
amazing  visitor  was  not  only  pretty  but  chic,  de- 
cided to  obey. 

"Mees  Maxwell,"  he  announced  at  the  door  of  the 
library,  and  leaving  the  lady  to  explain  herself, 
discreetly  vanished. 

Schuyler  was  in  the  act  of  selecting  from  his  book- 
shelves a  few  favourite  volumes  to  take  with  him 
from  this  home  of  peace,  back  to  the  hurly-burly. 
Unable  to  believe  his  ears,  he  turned  quickly,  and 
then  for  half  a  second  could  not  believe  his  eyes. 
Disarmed,  his  face  told  Peter  a  secret  she  had  long 
wished  to  know  with  certainty.  Therefore,  though 
he  spoke  almost  brusquely,  and  frowned  at  her 
instead  of  smiling,  she  was  so  happy  that  she  could 
have  sung  for  joy.  "If  I  don't  fix  it  all  up  to-day, 
my  name  isn't  Molly  Maxwell,"  she  informed  her 
inner  self,  in  the  quaint,  practical  way  that  Mary 
had  loved. 

"Peter  —  it  can't  be  you!"  Schuyler  exclaimed. 

"It's  all  that's  left  of  me,  after  missing  the  luxe 
and  travelling  for  about  seventeen  years  in  any  sort 
of  old  train  I  could  get,"  she  replied  with  elaborate 


590     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

nonchalance.  "Kindly  don't  stare  as  if  I  were 
Banquo's  ghost  or  something.  I'm  so  tired  and 
dusty  and  desperately  hungry  that  if  you  don't  grin 
at  once  I  shall  dissolve  in  tears." 

She  held  out  both  hands,  and  Jim,  aching  to'seize 
her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her  breath  away,  took  the 
extended  hands  as  if  they  had  been  marked 
"dangerous." 

"Where's  your  father?"  was  his  first  question. 

"In  New  York,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"Great  Scott!  you  haven't  come  here  from  Scot- 
land alone?" 

"I  thought  I  had,  but  if  you  say  I  haven't,  perhaps 
I've  been  attended  by  spirit  chaperons." 

"My  —  dear  girl,  what  has  possessed  you?  You 
are  looking  impish.  What  have  you  come  for?" 

"Partly  to  see  my  darling,  precious  Mary  Grant 
and  criticise  her  Prince.  Partly " 

"Well?" 

"Why  does  your  face  suddenly  look  as  if  you 
suspected  me  of  criminal  intentions?" 

"Don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  my  dear  goose!" 

"Why  not  'duck?'  It's  a  day  for  ducks.  Only 
you're  so  afraid  of  paying  me  compliments.  I  see 
you  think  you  know  why  I've  come.  Tell  me  at 
once,  or  I  won't  play.  Be  frank." 

"You  really  want  frankness?" 

"Of  course.     I'm  afraid  of  nothing." 

"Well,  then  —  er  —  I  couldn't  help  seeing  in 
New  York  that  you  and  Dick  Carleton  - 

"Good  gracious!  if  I'm  a  goose,  what  are  you? 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     591 

There's  no  word  for  it.  Dick  and  I  flirted  — 
naturally.  What  are  girls  and  men  for?" 

"I  supposed  this  was  more  serious." 

"Then  you  supposed  wrong,  as  you  generally  have 
about  me.  I  can't  even  think  seriously  of  youths. 
Let  Dick  —  fly." 

Jim  laughed  out  almost  boyishly.  "That's  what 
I  have  let  him  do.  Of  course  you  know  he's  been 
visiting  me  —  but  he's  gone  with  his  Flying  Fish." 

"So  Mary  Grant  wrote  in  the  one  letter  I've  had 
from  her.  That's  partly  why  I  came  straight  to 
you.  I  thought  you  could  tell  me  whether  she  was 
still  in  the  bosom  of  her  Princess  Delia  Robbia, 
where  she  said  she  was  going  to  visit  for  a  few 
days." 

"I  believe  she's  still  there.  But  you  haven't  told 
me  yet  the  second  part  of  your  reason  for  coming 
out  here  —  alone." 

"It's  not  quite  as  simple  to  explain  as  the  first 
part.  But  it  is  just  as  important.  My  most  inti- 
mate Me  forced  me  to  start,  the  minute  I  got  a  letter 
from  Dad  saying  he  couldn't  get  away  from  New 
York  till  the  end  of  May,  and  I  must  wait  for  him 
quietly  at  the  convent.  I  haven't  had  a  peaceful 
minute  there  since  Mary  Grant  left.  I  felt  in  my 
bones  she'd  make  straight  for  Monte  Carlo,  and 
knowing  certain  things  about  her  father  and  other 
ancestors,  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  a  good  place  for 
her.  The  horrid  dreams  I've  had  about  that  girl 
have  been  enough  to  turn  my  hair  gray!  I  shall 
probably  have  to  take  a  course  of  treatment  from  a 


592     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

beauty  doctor,  judging  by  the  way  you  glare.  Luckily 
it  seems  to  have  turned  out  all  right  for  the  dear 
angel.  You  know,  she's  my  very  bestest  friend." 

"I  didn't  know.     How  should  I?" 

"She  might  have  told  you.  Besides,  when  Dad  and 
I  visited  you,  I  showed  you  the  photograph  of  a  lot 
of  girls,  and  pointed  out  Mary  as  my  special  chum. 
I  said  she'd  made  up  her  mind  to  take  the  vows." 

"By  Jove,  that's  why,  when  I  first  saw  her  face, 
I  somehow  associated  her  with  you.  I'd  forgotten 
the  photograph,  though  the  connection  was  left,  a 
vague,  floating  mystery  that  puzzled  me.  But  I 
won't  be  switched  off  the  other  part  of  your  reason. 
You  say  it's  important." 

"  Desperately  important.  It  may  affect  my  whole 
future,  and  perhaps  yours  too,  dear  cousin,  odd  as 
that  may  seem  to  you,  unless  you  recall  the  fable  of 
the  mouse  and  the  lion." 

"Which  am  I?" 

"I  leave  that  to  your  imagination.  But  talking 
of  game,  reminds  me  of  food.  Do  feed  me.  I  want 
what  at  the  convent  we  call  'a  high  tea/  Cold 
chicken  and  bread  and  butter,  and  cake  and  jam  — 
lots  of  both  —  and  tea  with  cream  in  it.  While 
you're  pressing  morsels  between  my  starving  lips,  I 
will  in  some  way  or  other,  by  word,  or  gesture,  tell 
you  about  —  the  other  part,  which  is  so  important 
to  us  both." 

If  his  eyes  had  been  on  her  then,  he  might  have 
had  an  electric  shock  of  sudden  enlightenment,  but 
he  had  turned  his  back,  to  go  and  touch  the  bell. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     593 

While  the  servant  —  ordered  to  bring  everything 
good  —  was  engaged  in  laying  a  small  table,  the  two 
talked  of  Mary,  and  Jim  told  Peter  what  he  knew  of 
Vanno  Delia  Robbia  and  his  family.  Peter  had 
asked  to  have  her  "high  tea"  in  Jim's  library,  be- 
cause she  knew  it  was  the  room  he  liked  best,  and 
was  most  associated  with  his  daily  life  at  Stella- 
mare;  but  she  pretended  that  it  was  because  of  the 
"special"  view  from  the  windows,  over  the  cypress 
walk  with  the  old  garden  statues,  and  down  to  what 
she  used  to  call  the  "classic  temple,"  in  a  grove  of 
olives  and  stone  pines  close  to  the  sea. 

When  tea  came,  she  insisted  upon  giving  Schuyle:: 
a  cup.  It  would,  she  said,  make  him  more  human 
and  sympathetic.  Though  she  had  pronounced  her- 
self to  be  starving,  after  all  she  was  satisfied  with 
very  little.  Having  finished,  she  leaned  her  elbows 
on  the  table,  and  gazed  out  of  the  long  window  close 
by,  at  the  rain  which  continued  to  fall  in  wicked 
black  streaks  against  a  clearing,  sunset  sky.  "It's 
like  the  stripes  on  a  tawny  snake,"  she  said,  "or  on 
a  tiger's  back.  This  isn't  a  proper  Riviera  day. 
And  the  mountains  of  Italy  have  put  powder  on  their 
foreheads  and  noses.  While  it's  rained  down  here, 
it's  been  snowing  on  the  heights.  As  my  French 
maid  used  to  say,  *I  think  the  weather's  in  train  to 
rearrange  itself."1 

"Never  mind  the  weather,"  said  Jim.  "Tell  me 
about  the  *  other  part. '  You've  excited  my  curiosity." 

"I  meant  to.  But  talking  of  the  weather  draws 
people  together,  don't  you  think?  just  as  the  thought 


594      THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

of  tea  does  in  England  and  dear  old  Scotland. 
Everybody  everywhere  having  tea  at  the  same  time, 
you  know,  and  the  same  feelings  and  thoughts. 
It's  different  abroad  or  in  America.  Tea's  more 
like  an  accident  than  an  institution." 

"Never  mind  talking  of  tea,  either." 

"I'll  talk  about  you,  then." 

"I  want  to  talk  about  you  —  and  what's  going  to 
become  of  you  to-night." 

"Only  think,  if  I'd  arrived  to-morrow,  I  should 
have  been  too  late!" 

"Too  late  for  what?" 

"For  the  other  part.  You'd  have  been  gone.  But 
Fate's  always  kind  to  me.  It  made  me  come  just 
in  time." 

"Tell  me,  then  —  about  that  other  part.  Do  you 
want  my  advice?" 

"Not  exactly  advice." 

She  looked  at  him  across  the  little  table,  through 
the  twilight.  A  sudden  fire  leaped  up  in  his  eyes, 
which  usually  looked  coldly  at  life  as  if  he  had 
resigned  himself  to  let  its  best  things  pass  him  by. 

"Peter!     You    don't    mean  —  you    can't    mean 


"Do  you  want  me  to  mean  it?  —  Do  you  want 
me " 

"Want  you?  I've  wanted  nothing  else  since  be- 
fore you  were  out  of  short  frocks,  but " 

"Then  why  didn't  you  tell  me  so  before  I  put 
them  on?  I  was  —  oh,  Jim,  I  was  dying  to  hear  it. 
I  was  afraid  you  didn't  care  in  that  way,  that  you 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      595 

thought  me  a  silly  child  always.  That's  why  I  went 
back  to  stay  in  the  convent,  to  try  and  find  peace, 
and  forget.  But  when  I  heard  about  Mary  and  her 
love,  I  couldn't  bear  it  there  any  longer.  I  hoped 
that  perhaps,  after  all  —  and  when  I  came  to-day  and 
you  looked  at  me,  I  knew  for  certain.  I  felt  so  brave, 
and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  propose,  for  I  was  sure 
you  wouldn't.  It's  leap  year,  anyhow." 

They  were  standing  now,  and  Jim  had  her  in  his 
arms. 

"  I've  been  miserable  without  you,"  he  said.  "And 
it's  all  your  fault.  You  made  me  sure  it  was  no  use. 
Don't  you  remember  how  you  said  one  day  that 
marrying  a  cousin  must  be  like  paying  a  long  dull 
visit  to  relatives?  —  a  thing  you  hated." 

"And  you  took  that  to  yourself?" 

"Naturally.  I  supposed  you  thought  it  merciful 
to  choke  me  off,  so  I  shut  up  like  an  oyster.  And 
then  there  was  Dick " 

"He  never  existed.  Oh,  Jim,  we've  both  been 
rather  silly,  haven't  we?  But  luckily  we're  both 
very  young." 

"I'm  not.  I'm  almost  old  enough  to  be  your 
father." 

"You're  just  the  right  age  for  a  lover.  To  think 
that  by  one  speech  which  I  made  merely  in  order  to 
be  mildly  witty,  I  came  near  spoiling  the  whole  show! 
But  you  ought  to  have  known  better.  You're  such 
a  distant,  uttermost,  outlying  cousin  —  a  hill  brig- 
and of  a  cousin  claiming  my  relationship  or  my  life." 

"I'm  going  to  claim  more  than  either  now." 


596     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"My  gracious !  I  do  hope  so,  or  I  shall  have  come 
to  visit  you  in  vain." 

Nobody  thought  of  the  unfortunate  cabman,  but 
he  was  not  neglectful  of  his  own  interests;  and  hav- 
ing covered  his  horses  and  refreshed  himself  with 
secret  stores  of  wine  and  bread,  he  was  asleep  under 
an  immense  umbrella  when,  after  dark,  his  existence 
was  remembered.  By  this  time,  it  was  too  late  in 
Jim's  opinion  for  Peter  to  go  and  call  at  Princess 
Delia  Robbia's.  Mary  would  have  begun  to  dress 
for  dinner,  if  she  were  at  home;  and,  besides,  a  place 
for  Peter  to  spend  the  night  must  be  found  without 
delay.  She  could  visit  Mary  in  the  morning. 

Jim  tabooed  the  idea  of  a  hotel,  but  thought  of 
Mrs.  Winter,  as  most  of  her  acquaintances  did  think 
of  her  when  they  wanted  practical  advice  or  help. 
Peter's  luggage  was  transferred  from  the  cab  to  Jim's 
automobile,  the  sleepy  cocker  was  paid  above  his 
demands,  and  the  happiest  man  on  the  Riviera  spun 
off  alone  with  the  happiest  girl,  in  a  closed  motor 
car,  to  Monte  Carlo.  The  chauffeur  was  told  not 
to  drive  fast. 

Providentially,  "St.  George's"  dreaded  aunt  had 
gone,  having  been  told  by  a  doctor  that  the  climate 
was  too  exciting  for  her  state  of  health. 

The  Winters'  spare  room  was  free,  and  the  chap- 
lain and  his  wife  were  delighted.  News  of  Mary 
there  was  none  except  that,  three  or  four  nights  ago, 
she  had  called  while  George  and  Rose  were  at  Nice 
and  had  taken  her  jewel-case,  leaving  no  message  but 


"her  love."  Rose  supposed  that  Mary  must  have 
wanted  some  of  her  pretty  things  for  an  entertain- 
ment at  the  Villa  Mirasole.  Prince  Vanno  had  been 
away  in  Rome,  but  must  be  due,  if  he  had  not  already 
returned.  Probably  if  Miss  Maxwell  went  over  to 
Cap  Martin  in  the  morning  she  would  see  not  only 
Mary  but  the  Prince,  who,  said  Rose,  "looked  like 
a  knight-errant  or  a  reformer  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but, 
oh,  so  handsome  and  so  young!" 

"I  thought  when  I  first  saw  them  together,  the 
very  evening  of  their  engagement,"  she  added,  "that 
there  was  something  fatal  about  them,  as  if  they  were 
not  born  for  ordinary,  happy  lives,  like  the  rest  of 
us.  But  thank  goodness,  I  seem  to  be  mistaken. 
The  course  of  their  true  love  runs  so  smoothly  it 
almost  ceases  to  be  interesting." 


XXXVIII 

JIM  SCHUYLER  did  not  leave  Stellamare  next  day. 
His  butler- valet  had  the  pleasure  of  unpacking  again. 
The  motor  was  at  Peter's  service  in  the  morning,  and 
soon  after  eleven  she  was  driving  through  the  beau- 
tiful gateway  of  the  Villa  Mirasole. 

Americo  answered  her  ring,  bowing  politely,  but 
one  who  knew  the  ruddy  brown  face  would  have  seen 
that  he  was  not  himself.  In  some  stress  of  emotion 
the  man  in  him  had  got  the  better  of  the  servant. 
His  eyes  were  round  as  an  owl's  as  he  informed  the 
stranger  that  Miss  Grant  was  no  longer  at  the  villa. 
He  even  forgot  to  speak  English,  a  sign  with  him  of 
deep  mental  disturbance. 

"Where  has  Miss  Grant  gone?"  Peter  inquired, 
thinking  the  fellow  an  idiot. 

"I  do  not  know,  Mademoiselle." 

"Then  go  and  inquire,  please." 

"I  regret,  it  is  useless.  No  one  in  this  house  can 
tell  where  Mees  Grant  is." 

"You  must  be  mistaken.  I'll  send  my  name  to  the 
Princess  and  ask  her  to  see  a  friend  of  Miss  Grant's." 

Americo's   face   quivered,   and   his   eyes   bulged. 
"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  think  her  High- 
ness can  see  any  one  this  morning.      There   is  - 
family  trouble." 

598 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     599 

Peter  still  hesitated,  determined  somehow  to  get 
news  of  Mary.  Could  it  be  that  the  engagement 
had  been  broken  off?  she  asked  herself.  As  she  stood 
wondering  what  to  do,  a  tall  young  man  flashed  from 
an  inner  room  into  the  vestibule,  seized  a  hat  from  a 
table,  and  without  appearing  to  see  the  butler, 
pushed  past  the  distressed  Americo.  He  would  have 
passed  Peter  also  like  a  whirlwind,  unconscious  of 
her  existence,  had  she  not  called  out  sharply,  "Is  it 
Prince  Giovanni  Delia  Robbia?" 

He  wheeled  abruptly  as  a  soldier  on  drill,  and 
stared  sombrely  from  under  frowning  brows.  His 
pallor  and  stifled  fury  of  impatience  made  him  for- 
midable, almost  startling.  Peter  thought  of  a  wound- 
ed stag  at  bay. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  stammered,  losing  the 
gay  self-confidence  of  the  spoilt  and  pretty  American 
girl.  "I'm  a  great  friend  of  Mary  Grant's.  I  must 
know  where  she  is." 

The  man's  faced  changed  instantly.  Fierce  im- 
patience became  fiery  eagerness.  For  a  second  or 
two  he  looked  at  Peter  without  speaking,  his  interest 
too  intense  to  find  expression  in  words.  Then,  as 
she  also  was  silent,  he  said : 

"There  is  no  one  I  would  rather  see  than  a  friend 
of  Mary's,  except  Mary  herself.  Tell  me  where  you 
knew  her." 

"At  the  convent  in  Scotland,"  Peter  answered 
promptly.  "  I  suppose  she's  told  you  about  it.  Did 
she  mention  her  friend  Molly  Maxwell?" 

"She  said  she  had  two  friends  named  Mary.     We 


600     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

had  little  time  to  talk  together  —  not  many  days  in 
all.  When  did  you  see  her  last?" 

"In  November,  just  before  she  left  the  convent. 
She  went  and  stayed  with  an  aunt  a  few  weeks  in 
London,  and  then  came  here.  She  wrote  me  about 
you,  and  I  recognized  you  from  her  description. 
That's  why  I  — 

"Forgive  me.  I  believe  you  can  be  of  the  greatest 
service  to  Mary,  and  to  me."  He  glanced  at  Americo, 
who  held  the  door  open.  "Let  us  walk  in  the  woods, 
if  you  aren't  afraid  of  damp.  I've  something  impor- 
tant to  say." 

They  went  down  the  steps  and  out  of  the  gate 
together,  like  old  acquaintances.  Peter  had  no 
longer  any  doubt  that  the  "family  trouble"  con- 
cerned Mary;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  whatever 
it  might  be,  Prince  Vanno  was  on  her  side.  Peter 
admired  him,  and  burned  to  serve  her  friend. 

"There  has  been  an  abominable  lie  told,"  Vanno 
began,  as  soon  as  they  were  outside  his  brother's 
gate.  "I  must  explain  to  you  quickly  what's  hap- 
pened, if  you're  to  understand.  I  went  to  Rome  to 
tell  my  father  of  our  engagement.  I  left  Mary  with 
my  brother  and  sister-in-law.  I  had  two  happy 
letters  from  her.  This  morning  I  arrived  here  in 
the  Rome  express.  I  came  straight  to  Cap  Martin, 
expecting  to  find  Mary.  Instead  I  found  my  brother 
and  his  wife  alone.  My  sister-in-law,  I  must  say  in 
justice,  seemed  terribly  grieved  at  what  had  hap- 
pened. She  could  or  would  tell  me  nothing.  But 
Angelo  —  my  brother  —  began  some  rigmarole  about 


THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES  601 

Mary  having  run  away  from  her  convent-school 
years  ago  with  a  man,  and  —  but  I  won't  repeat  the 
story.  I  refused  to  listen.  I  can  never  forgive  my 
brother." 

"Good  for  you!"  exclaimed  the  American  girl. 
"But  I  see  the  whole  thing,  and  you  needn't  even 
try  to  repeat  the  story.  I  know  it  without  your 
telling.  It  happened  to  another  girl  with  a  name 
almost  exactly  like  Mary's.  That's  how  the  mistake 
must  have  come  about.  The  girl  who  ran  away 
disappeared  about  four  years  ago.  My  Mary  was  at 
the  convent  till  last  fall.  I  can  prove  everything 
I  say." 

"Will  you  see  my  brother  and  his  wife  now,  and 
tell  them  what  you  know?" 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure." 

"Thank  God  you  came!  In  another  minute  I 
should  have  been  gone.  And  I  don't  know  where 
to  look  for  Mary." 

"You  don't  know?  Didn't  she  write?  Or  did 
she  expect  you  to  believe  things  against  her?" 

"I  could  hardly  have  blamed  her  if  she  had  ex- 
pected it,  for  —  I  failed  her  once.  But  that  was 
before  I  knew  her.  Nothing  could  make  me  doubt  her 
now.  She  did  write  to  me.  I  found  a  letter  waiting 
at  the  villa  this  morning  —  a  letter  [  postmarked 
Monte  Carlo,  to  say  I  mustn't  look  for  her — that  all  is 
over  for  ever  and  ever." 

"But  you're  going  to  look  for  her  all  the  same? " 

"And  to  find  her.  I  won't  rest  till  I've  got  her 
back." 


602     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"You're  the  right  sort  of  man,  though  you  aren't 
an  American." 

"My  mother  was  one." 

"So  much  the  better.  Let's  go  into  the  house, 
and  I'll  soon  make  your  people  swallow  any  words 
they've  said  against  Mary." 

Americo  was  still  at  the  door,  or  had  returned 
there.  "Highness,"  he  said,  "the  Princess  wishes 
me  to  make  you  come  in.  She  has  to  talk.  She 
send  me  in  woods,  but  I  not  go,  because  of  young 
lady  with  you.  I  wait  here.  Princess  in  yellow 
saloon,  by  her  lone." 

"Come,"  Vanno  said  to  Peter.  "We'll  speak  to 
her,  and  find  out  what  she  wants.  Then  my  brother 
shall  come  and  hear  your  story." 

"Go  first  and  explain  me,  please,"  Peter  said. 

Vanno  would  have  obeyed,  but  Princess  Delia 
Robbia  gave  him  no  time.  She  was  wandering 
restlessly  about  the  room,  too  impatient  to  sit  down. 
When  she  saw  Vanno  at  the  door,  she  went  to  him 
swiftly.  "I'm  so  glad  Americo  found  you,"  she 
cried.  "I  need  to  have  a  word  with  you  alone. 
Angelo  is  so  hard!  He  wouldn't  let  me  see  Mary 
before  she  went,  or  even  write  her  a  line  of  love  and 
sympathy.  I've  hardly  eaten  or  slept  since  that 
awful  afternoon.  If  you  could  know  how  ill  I  am,  you 
wouldn't  blame  me  so  much!  I  love  Mary.  My 
heart's  breaking  for  her  trouble.  But  I  can  do 
nothing,  except  send  a  letter  for  you  to  give,  in  case 
you  find  her.  Please  take  it  —  I've  written  it 
already,  in  case  —  and  don't  tell  Angelo." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     603 

"I've  brought  a  friend  of  Mary's  who  can  prove 
to  you  both  that  she  isn't  the  heroine  of  that  story 
you  and  my  brother  were  so  quick  to  believe,"  Vanno 
broke  in,  lacking  patience  to  hear  her  through. 

With  a  faint  "Oh!"  Marie  shrank  back,  looking 
suddenly  smaller  and  older.  The  pretty  hand  which 
had  pressed  Vanno's  sleeve  dropped  heavily  as  if 
its  many  rings  weighed  the  fingers  down.  Sickly 
pale,  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  unable  to  speak, 
though  her  lips  fell  apart,  seeming  to  form  the  word 
"Who?" 

Vanno  waited  for  no  further  explaining,  but  called 
Peter,  who  hovered  outside  the  open  door.  "Miss 
Maxwell,  will  you  come?" 

Peter  appeared  instantly,  but  seeing  the  Princess, 
stopped  on  the  threshold,  with  the  face  of  one  who 
meets  a  ghost.  "Marie  Grant!"  she  exclaimed,  the 
two  short  words  explosive  as  revolver  shots. 

The  figure  in  white  collapsed  like  a  tossed  bundle, 
into  a  chair.  It  seemed  that  the  woman  ceased  to 
breathe.  In  a  second  the  peculiar  freshness  of  her 
beauty  had  shrivelled  as  if  scorched  by  a  rushing 
flame.  Only  her  eyes  were  alive.  They  moved  wist- 
fully from  Peter  to  Vanno,  and  from  Vanno  to  the 
half-open  door,  as  if  seeking  mercy  or  escape.  She 
looked  agonized,  broken,  like  a  fawn  caught  in  a 
trap. 

Peter  turned  to  Vanno.  "This  is  the  girl  who 
ran  away  from  our  convent  with  a  man,"  she  said 
crudely.  "As  she's  here  in  the  house,  how  did  Mary 
come  to  be  suspected?" 


604     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"That  is  my  sister-in-law,  Princess  Delia  Robbia," 
Vanno  answered.  As  he  spoke  his  forehead  flamed, 
and  his  eyes  grew  keen  as  swords.  His  look  stripped 
Marie's  soul  bare  of  lies. 

She  held  out  her  hands,  but  there  was  no  mercy 
for  her  then  in  either  heart.  In  a  moment  the  two 
had  judged  her,  with  the  unhesitating  cruelty  of 
youth.  Peter's  eyes  narrowed  in  disgust,  as  if  the 
white  thing  cowering  in  the  chair  were  a  noxious 
animal,  a  creature  to  be  exterminated. 

"I  understand  too,  very  well,"  she  said  slowly. 
"Horrible,  wicked  woman!  You  put  the  blame  of 
your  own  sins  on  my  Mary,  to  save  yourself,  and  like 
the  saint  she  is,  she  let  you  do  it.  But  I  won't. 
God  sent  me  here,  I  see  now.  You've  got  to  confess, 
and  right  my  girl." 

Tears  fell  from  Marie's  eyes.  Her  face  quivered, 
then  crinkled  up  piteously  as  a  child's  face  crinkles 
in  a  storm  of  weeping.  "Shut  the  door,"  she  stam- 
mered between  sobs.  "For  God's  sake,  shut  the 
door!  If  Angelo  should  come!" 

Neither  Vanno  nor  Peter  moved.  They  wished 
Angelo  to  come.  Seeing  them  stand  there,  rigid, 
relentless,  Marie  realized  as  she  had  not  fully  realized 
before  that  they  were  her  enemies,  that  no  softness 
or  prettiness,  no  agony  of  tears  could  turn  their 
hearts.  ^»ne  sprang  up  with  a  choking  cry,  and 
stumbled  toward  the  door.  Vanno,  thinking  she 
meant  to  run  away,  took  two  long  steps  and  placed 
himself  before  her. 

"Angel  with  the  flaming  sword!"  were  the  words 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES      605 

that  spoke  themselves  in  Peter's  mind.  But  she  had 
no  pity  yet  for  Marie. 

"I  —  I  only  want  to  shut  the  door — that's  all  —  be- 
cause you  wouldn't,"  the  Princess  faltered.  "Just  for 
a  few  minutes.  It's  all  I  ask.  Give  me  a  little  time." 

Vanno  closed  the  door  without  noise,  and  stood  in 
front  of  it  like  a  sentinel.  "You  may  have  a  few 
minutes,"  he  said.  "Then  I  shall  call  Angelo  to 
hear  the  truth  from  you  or  from  me.  It's  for  you 
to  choose  which." 

"Haven't  you  any  mercy  in  your  heart?"  she 
wailed.  "I'm  only  a  woman.  I'm  your  brother's 
wife.  He  loves  me." 

"I  love  Mary,"  Vanno  said. 

"It  was  Mary  who  spared  me.  She  saw  it  was 
worse  for  me  than  for  her,  because  I'm  married  to 
Angelo.  My  whole  life's  at  stake.  That's  why  she 
sacrificed  herself.  I " 

"The  more  you  say,  the  worse  you  make  us  hate 
you,"  Peter  cut  her  short.  "You  were  always  self- 
ish. Even  when  I  liked  you,  I  used  to  think  you 
just  like  a  white  Persian  cat.  When  you  were 
petted,  you  purred.  When  things  went  wrong,  you 
scratched.  You  don't  deserve  the  name  of  woman. 
What  you've  done  is  as  bad  as  murder." 

"I  did  it  for  Angelo,"  Marie  pleaded.  "I  love 
him  so!  I  couldn't  lose  his  love." 

"So  you  flung  Mary  to  the  wolves!"  Vanno  said. 
He  had  not  believed  that  he  could  see  a  woman  cry 
without  pitying  and  wishing  to  help  her.  But  his 
heart  felt  hard  as  stone  as  he  watched  Marie's 


606     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

streaming  tears.  All  the  brutality  of  his  fierce  an- 
cestors had  rushed  to  arms  in  his  nature.  The  fancy 
came  to  his  mind  that  he  would  still  be  hard  and 
cold  if  he  had  to  see  her  flogged.  Then  at  the  sug- 
gested picture,  something  in  him  writhed  and  re- 
volted. He  was  not  so  hard  as  he  had  thought. 
He  had  to  steel  himself  against  her  by  thinking  of 
what  she  had  done  to  Mary. 

"You  deserve  to  die!"  said  Peter. 

"I  want  to  die,"  Marie  answered  pitifully.  She 
stood  supporting  herself  with  an  arm  that  clung  to 
the  high  straight  back  of  a  Florentine  chair.  "If 
you  will  only  not  tell  Angelo  till  I  am  dead,  that's 
all  I'll  ask.  Please  wait  —  a  little  while.  I  couldn't 
live  and  look  him  in  the  face  if  he  knew,  so 
I  would  have  to  kill  myself  before  you  told.  I'm  too 
unhappy  to  be  afraid  of  dying  —  for  my  own  sake. 
I've  suffered  such  agonies  of  fear,  nothing  could  be 
worse.  But  there's  a  reason  why  it  would  be  wicked 
to  die  just  now  —  of  my  own  accord.  There's  a  child 
coming  —  in  a  few  months.  Afterward,  I'll  swear 
to  you  to  kill  myself,  and  then  you  can  tell  Angelo 
everything.  Won't  you  wait  till  then  —  only  till 
the  end  of  the  summer?  Mary  would  say  yes,  if 
she  were  here." 

The  one  weapon  by  which  she  could  defend  her- 
self against  their  justice,  she  had  drawn,  and  stood 
weakly  on  guard,  her  strength  spent. 

Vanno  and  Peter  looked  at  one  another  in  silence, 
in  the  eyes  of  each  the  same  question.  "Is  this  the 
truth?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     607 

Marie  read  their  faces.  "Angelo  knows  that  there 
will  be  a  baby,"  she  whispered.  "Indeed  it's  true. 
As  soon  as  my  child  is  born,  I'm  ready  to  die." 

"No  one  wants  you  to  die!"  Peter  said  sharply. 

"Except  myself.  I  must  die  if  you're  going  to 
tell.  If  you  won't  wait,  it  will  have  to  be  now,  at 
any  cost." 

"You  know  that  you  force  us  to  wait,"  Vanno 
answered.  "Trust  weak  woman  to  conquer!  We 
cannot  wish  for  your  death.  But  I'll  find  Mary  and 
marry  her,  in  spite  of  herself.  As  for  my  brother, 
never  will  I  forgive  him.  And  I  hope  that  I  may 
never  see  you  or  Angelo  again.  Let  your  own  soul 
punish  you,  while  you  live." 

"Are  we  to  go?"  asked  Peter. 

"Yes,"  Vanno  said. 

They  went  out  together,  and  left  Marie  staring 
after  them. 

For  a  little  while  she  was  safe. 


XXXIX 

ALL  this  time  Jim  Schuyler's  motor  had  been  wait- 
ing. It  was  strange  to  go  out  into  the  sunshine  and 
see  the  smart  chauffeur  in  his  place,  placidly  reading 
a  newspaper. 

"Won't  you  come  with  me  to  Monte  Carlo?" 
Peter  asked.  "We  may  find  Mary  at  a  hotel." 

"I  will  come,"  Vanno  said.  "Her  letter  was 
posted  there,  yet  I  feel  she  has  gone.  She  used  to 
talk  about  Italy,  but  I  don't  think  she  would  go  to 
the  house  Hannaford  left  her.  She  couldn't  bear  the 
idea  of  living  in  his  place." 

"Let's  go  straight  to  Mrs.  Winter's  and  ask  her 
advice,"  Peter  suggested.  "She  told  me  all  about 
the  Chateau  Lontana  last  night." 

They  sat  silent  as  the  motor  carried  them  swiftly 
along  the  white  road.  Peter  longed  to  talk,  but  all 
the  things  she  most  wished  to  say  were  impossible 
to  put  into  words.  How  Marie  had  checkmated 
them!  It  was  like  her,  Peter  thought;  but  she  did 
not  doubt  the  truth  of  that  thing  the  Princess  had 
said.  There  are  some  looks,  some  tones,  which  can- 
not lie. 

Peter  did  not  see  what  other  course  they  could 
have  taken,  instead  of  that  which  they  had  chosen 
quickly,  without  discussion,  accepting  the  inevitable. 

608 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     609 

She  believed,  and  she  thought  Vanno  believed,  that 
Marie  would  have  kept  her  word  and  killed  herself 
if  they  had  persisted  in  telling  Angelo  what  she  was 
and  had  done.  She  had  begged  them  to  "wait  a 
little  while,"  but  it  was  not  only  a  question  of  wait- 
ing. Marie,  as  usual,  had  done  well  for  herself. 
Vanno  could  not  in  cold  blood,  after  months  had 
passed  and  Marie  was  the  mother  of  his  brother's 
child,  tell  Angelo  the  story.  At  least,  Peter  was  sure 
he  would  not  bring  himself  to  do  that.  Even  she, 
who  detested  Marie  now  with  an  almost  tigerish 
hatred,  could  not  imagine  herself  pouring  out  such 
a  tale  when  the  first  fire  of  rage  had  died  —  no,  not 
even  in  defence  of  Mary;  for  Mary  would  be  the  one 
of  all  others  to  say,  "Do  not  speak."  Yet  it  filled 
Peter  with  fury  to  think  that  now  no  one  could  fight 
for  Mary  —  sweet  Mary,  who  was  not  by  nature  one 
to  fight  for  herself.  The  great  wrong  had  been  done. 
Vanno  could  not  forgive  his  brother's  injustice. 
The  two  would  be  separated  in  heart  and  life  while 
Marie  lived.  All  this  through  Marie's  sin  and 
cowardice  in  covering  it.  Yet  even  those  she  had 
injured  could  not  urge  her  on  to  death. 

Suddenly,  just  as  the  motor  slowed  down  near  the 
Monaco  frontier,  Peter  cried  out,  "There's  Mrs. 
Winter,  walking!" 

She  touched  an  electric  bell,  and  the  chauffeur 
stopped  his  car. 

Rose  was  taking  her  morning  exercise.  She  looked 
up,  smiling  at  sight  of  Peter  and  Vanno  getting  out 
of  the  automobile  to  meet  her. 


610     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"Where's  Mary?"  she  asked,  then  checked  her- 
self quickly.  She  saw  by  the  two  faces  that  some- 
thing was  wrong.  "Mary's  not  ill,  I  hope?"  she 
amended  her  question. 

Peter  left  the  explanation  to  Vanno.  It  concerned 
his  family,  and  how  much  he  might  choose  to  tell  she 
did  not  know. 

"There's  been  a  misunderstanding,"  he  said.  "I 
came  back  this  morning  to  find  Mary  gone.  I'm 
afraid  my  brother  and  sister-in-law  were  not  kind  to 
her,  and  nothing  can  ever  be  the  same  between  us 
again  because  of  that.  But  the  one  important  thing 
is  to  find  Mary.  She  has  —  thrown  me  over,  in  a 
letter,  and  it  does  not  tell  me  where  she  is.  Do  you 
think  she  can  be  in  Monte  Carlo?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  Rose  replied  with  her  usual  prompt- 
ness. "What  a  shame  I  was  out  when  she  called 
the  other  night.  Perhaps  she  would  have  confided  in 
me.  Now  I  see  why  she  took  her  jewellery.  Maybe 
she  needed  money.  If  we'd  been  at  home,  we'd  have 
made  her  stay  with  us.  Do  you  know,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  she'd  gone  to  the  Chateau  Lontana?" 

"I  thought  of  that,"  Vanno  said,  "but  she  didn't 
want  to  live  in  Hannaford's  house. " 

"With  you!  But  now  she's  alone  and  sad,  poor 
child.  If  we  could  only  be  sure,  you  could  telegraph, 
not  to  waste  time.  I'll  tell  you  what!  If  she  went 
there,  she  probably  drove  instead  of  taking  a  train. 
Wait  a  minute,  while  I  ask  the  hunchbacked  beggar 
if  he  saw  her.  They  were  great  chums;  and  it  was 
talking  to  him  I  came  across  her  first." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     611 

Rose  began  running  to  the  bridge,  where  the 
dwarf,  in  his  shady  hat  and  comfortable  cloak,  was 
engaged  in  eating  his  luncheon  on  a  newspaper,  kept 
down  on  the  parapet  with  stones.  Vanno  and  Peter 
followed  quickly,  but  before  they  arrived  Rose  had 
extracted  the  desired  information.  "He  did  see 
Mary  three  nights  ago,  in  a  carriage,  driving  in  the 
direction  of  Italy,"  she  announced  in  triumph.  "He 
was  just  starting  for  home.  What  a  good  thing  he 
hadn't  gone!" 

"There  was  another  lady  in  the  carriage  with  my 
Mademoiselle,"  added  the  beggar  in  bad  French, 
his  mouth  full  of  bread  and  cheese. 

"Another  lady!"  Rose  echoed.  "Who  could  it 
have  been?" 

"A  dark  lady,  young  but  not  a  girl,"  the  hunch- 
back cheerfully  went  on.  "She  looked  out  at  me, 
then  threw  herself  back  as  if  she  did  not  want  me 
to  see  who  she  was.  Perhaps  because  she  did  not 
wish  to  spare  me  a  penny,  and  was  ashamed.  Some 
people  are  stingy." 

"Did  you  know  the  lady's  face?" 

"No,  I  never  saw  it  before  that  I  can  remember. 
It  was  not  a  sweet  face  like  Mademoiselle's.  That 
lady  would  laugh  while  a  beggar  starved.  I  always 
know  at  the  first  look.  I  have  trained  myself  to 
judge.  It  is  my  metier." 

He  spoke  with  pride,  but  no  one  was  listening. 

"A  dark  woman,"  Vanno  repeated.  "What  has 
become  of  the  Dauntreys?  Do  you  know,  Mrs. 
Winter?" 


612     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I  heard  yesterday  that  they'd  disappeared, 
owing  every  one  money." 

"Miss  Maxwell,  will  you  let  me  go  now  at  once  to 
Italy  in  your  car?"  Vanno  asked. 

"Yes,"  Peter  said.  "It's  not  my  car,  but  it  be- 
longs to  my  best  friend.  He  and  I  will  both  be  glad, 
but  you  must  take  me  with  you." 

Rose  looked  wistful,  but  she  did  not  ask  to  go. 
The  others  were  not  thinking  of  her. 

"Do  you  know  the  Chateau  Lontana?"  she  in- 
quired of  Schuyler's  chauffeur.  "And  have  you  got 
your  papers  for  Italy?" 

The  man,  who  was  English,  touched  his  cap. 
"Yes,  Madam,  I  know  where  the  place  is.  And 
everything  is  in  order." 

As  a  last  thought,  Vanno  went  to  the  beggar  and 
put  two  gold  pieces  into  his  knotted  hand.  The 
little  man's  red-rimmed  eyes  glittered  with  joyful 
astonishment.  He  bit  first  one  coin,  then  the  other. 

Peter  had  expected  Jim  in  the  afternoon,  but  Rose 
promised  to  telephone. 

Neither  the  girl  nor  Vanno  thought  of  lunching. 
They  went  on  without  a  pause  except  for  the  formal- 
ities at  the  Italian  frontier,  and  it  was  early  in  the 
afternoon  when  the  car  slowed  down  before  the 
closed  gates  of  the  Chateau  Lontana.  The  chauffeur 
got  out  and  tried  to  open  them,  but  they  were  locked. 
He  turned  to  the  Prince  for  instructions.  "  What  are 
we  to  do,  sir?  There  is  no  bell."  His  tone  was  plain- 
tive, for  he  was  hungry  and  consequently  irritable. 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     613 

-  Vanno  jumped  out  and  tried  the  gates  in  vain. 
The  chauffeur  looked  at  the  ground  to  hide  his 
pleasure  in  the  gentleman's  failure.  Peter  peered 
from  the  car  anxiously.  "Perhaps  Mary  didn't 
come  here  after  all,  or  else  she's  gone  away,"  the 
girl  suggested.  "It  would  have  meant  a  horrid 
delay,  trying  to  find  the  cabman  who  drove  her 
from  Monte  Carlo,  but  after  all  it  might  have  been 
better." 

Vanno  was  ungallant  enough  not  to  answer.  He 
was  hardly  conscious  that  Peter  was  speaking.  The 
iron  gates,  set  between  tall  stone  posts,  were  very 
high.  On  the  other  side  an  ill-kept  road  overgrown 
with  bunches  of  rough  grass  wound  up  the  cypress 
and  olive  clad  hill.  At  the  very  top  stood  the  house 
which  somewhat  pretentiously  named  itself  a  cha- 
teau. It  was  built  of  the  beautiful  mottled  stone 
of  the  country,  brown  and  gray,  veined  and  splashed 
with  green,  purple,  yellow,  and  rose  pink.  There 
were  two  square  towers  and  several  large  balconies 
and  terraces  with  windows  looking  out  upon  them; 
but  the  windows  in  sight  were  closed  and  shuttered. 
The  thick  flowering  creepers  which  almost  covered 
the  walls  as  high  as  the  windows  of  the  second  story 

—  roses,  bougainvillea,  plumbago,  and  convolvulus 

—  were  tangled  and  matted  together,  great  branches 
trailing  over  the  shut  eyes  of  the  windows.  Cypresses 
and  olives  were  untrimmed,  and  there  was  a  strag- 
gling wilderness  of  orange  trees.   The  place  had  a  sad 
yet  poetic  look  of  having  been  forgotten  by  the  world. 

Vanno  knew  little  of  its  history,  except  that  an 


614     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

elderly  French  woman,  a  great  actress  long  before 
his  time,  had  bought  and  lived  in  the  house  for  many 
years,  letting  the  whole  property  fall  into  decay 
while  her  money  was  given  to  the  Casino. 

It  seemed  impossible  that  Mary  could  be  there 
behind  those  shuttered  windows,  but  he  was  deter- 
mined not  to  go  away  without  being  sure.  Rose 
Winter  had  said  half  jestingly  that  Lady  Dauntrey 
was  a  woman  who  might  "look  on  her  neighbour's 
jewels  when  it  was  dark."  And  Vanno  had  taken  a 
dislike  to  the  hostess  at  the  Villa  Bella  Vista.  He 
had  been  glad  to  take  Mary  out  of  her  hands,  to  put 
her  in  charge  of  Rose  Winter.  As  he  stood  and 
stared  at  the  high,  locked  gates  he  remembered  what 
the  beggar  had  said  about  the  dark  woman  who 
threw  herself  back  in  the  carriage  as  if  she  did  not 
wish  to  be  seen. 

"Shall  I  blow  my  horn  and  try  to  make  some  one 
come?"  asked  Schuyler's  chauffeur. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  Vanno  said  on  reflection.  "I 
have  an  idea  that  if  people  are  there,  they  won't 
come  down  for  that.  I  can  get  over  all  right  if 
you'll  back  the  car  close  to  the  gates." 

The  chauffeur's  expression  withdrew  itself  like  a 
snail  within  its  shell,  but  suddenly  he  became  in- 
terested enough  to  forget  his  hunger.  He  had  sup- 
posed that  the  young  lady  wished  to  pay  a  mere  call 
at  a  time  of  day  inconvenient  to  him:  but  evi- 
dently there  was  something  under  the  surface  of  this 
excursion.  He  had  not  stopped  the  engine,  and  turn- 
ing the  motor  with  the  bonnet  toward  France,  he 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     615 

carefully  backed  against  the  iron  grating.  In  a  mo- 
ment Vanno  had  climbed  on  to  the  top  of  the  car,  had 
swung  himself  over  the  gate,  and  dropped  down  on 
the  other  side.  The  chauffeur,  who,  like  most  of 
his  countrymen,  hated  to  be  made  conspicuous,  re- 
joiced that  this  was  accomplished  when  the  road  was 
empty.  He  would  not  have  enjoyed  being  stared 
at  even  by  a  peasant  in  a  cart. 

Peter  was  out  in  the  road,  watching  Vanno 's 
manoeuvres.  "I  wish  I  could  do  that!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"I'll  let  you  in,  or  send  some  one  to  unlock  the 
gates  if  possible,"  he  promised.  Then  as  he  walked 
swiftly  up  the  avenue  his  thoughts  rushed  far  ahead, 
and  he  forgot  Peter. 

The  motor  moved  a  little  away  from  the  gates, 
and  waited.  It  waited  a  long  time  and  no  sign  of 
life  showed  on  the  blank  face  of  the  house.  For 
many  minutes  Peter  stood  in  the  road,  looking  up, 
hoping  to  see  Vanno,  or  a  servant  coming  with  a 
key.  But  nothing  happened,  and  when  she  had 
grown  very  tired  of  standing,  she  reluctantly  went 
back  to  the  car.  She  sat  leaning  forward,  her  face 
at  the  window,  gazing  at  the  house;  and  at  last 
she  began  to  be  angry  with  Vanno.  Surely  he  might 
come  or  send,  knowing  how  anxious  she  must  be  to 
hear  of  Mary.  It  was  too  inconsiderate  to  leave  her 
there  in  suspense! 

Vanno  hoped  that  he  might  find  Mary  in  the 
garden;  for  mounting  from  lower  to  higher  levels, 
above  the  cypresses  and  olives  which  formed  a  wind 


616     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

screen  for  upper  terraces  near  the  house,  he  saw 
viewpoints  furnished  with  seats  of  old,  carved  marble, 
pergolas  roofed  with  masses  of  banksia,  and  one 
long  arbour,  darkly  green,  with  crimson  camelias 
flaming  at  the  far  end  like  a  magic  lamp.  At  any 
moment  a  slender  white  figure  might  start  up  from 
a  marble  bench,  or  gleam  out  like  a  statue  against 
a  background  of  clipped  laurel  or  box.  He  began 
to  feel  so  strongly  conscious  of  a  loved  and  loving 
presence,  that  he  was  as  much  surprised  as  dis- 
appointed when  he  reached  the  steps  leading  up  to 
the  house-terrace  without  having  seen  Mary.  If  he 
had  been  willing  to  harbour  superstitious  fancies 
then,  he  would  have  believed  that  Mary  had  sent 
her  spirit  to  meet  him  in  this  mournfully  sweet 
garden;  but  less  than  at  any  other  time  would  he 
listen  to  whispers  of  superstition.  Vanno  pulled 
the  old-fashioned  bell  of  the  front  door,  and  heard 
it  ring  janglingly  with  that  peculiar  plaintiveness 
which  bells  have  in  empty  houses.  It  seemed  to 
complain  of  being  roused  from  sleep,  when  waking 
could  give  no  promise  of  hope  or  pleasure. 

Twice  Vanno  rang,  and  then  there  came  the  sound 
of  unlocking  and  unbolting.  A  handsome  and  very 
dark  young  woman  of  the  peasant  class  looked  out 
at  him  questioningly,  with  eyes  of  topaz  under  black 
brows  that  met  in  a  straight  line  across  her  forehead. 
The  eyes  lit  when  Vanno  spoke  to  her  in  Italian,  and 
she  beamed  when  he  inquired  for  Miss  Grant. 

"The  beautiful  Signorina!"  she  exclaimed.  "The 
gracious  Signore  is  a  relative  who  has  come  for  her?" 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     617 

"We  are  to  be  married,"  he  answered  with  the 
frank  simplicity  of  Italians  in  such  matters. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  the  woman  cried.  "Will 
the  Signore  step  into  the  house?  " 

"She  is  here,  then?"  Vanno  asked,  entering  the 
vestibule  that  opened  into  the  white  coldness  of  the 
hall. 

"She  has  been  here  for  three  nights  and  two  days." 

"Thank  God!"  Vanno  muttered  under  his  breath. 
An  immense  relief,  like  a  bath  of  balm,  eased  the 
pain  of  suspense.  He  felt  that  he  had  come  to  the 
end  of  his  trouble.  After  all,  what  did  Angelo  or 
any  one  in  the  world  matter,  except  Mary?  He 
trusted  himself  to  make  her  realize  this.  A  few 
minutes  more  and  she  would  be  in  his  arms,  on  his 
heart,  and  her  scruples  would  be  burnt  to  ashes  in 
the  fire  of  his  love. 

"Will  you  tell  the  Signorina  that  Prince  Giovanni 
Delia  Robbia  has  come?"  he  said. 

The  woman  threw  out  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of 
apology  and  regret. 

"The  Signora  will  not  let  me  go  into  the  room," 
she  answered,  and  a  look  of  sullen  ferocity  opened  a 
door  into  depths  of  her  nature  where  fire  smouldered. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  to  Vanno's,  and  for  a  long  instant 
the  Prince  and  the  peasant  gazed  fixedly  at  each 
other.  At  the  end  of  that  instant  Vanno  knew  that 
this  woman  hated  the  "Signora"  and  her  com- 
mands; and  Apollonia  knew  that  this  man  would 
protect  her  through  any  disobedience. 

"Why  does  the  Signorina  keep  her  room?" 


618     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"It  seems  that  she  is  not  well." 

"When  did  you  see  her  last?" 

"Yesterday  morning,  Principe.  I  went  then  to 
her  room  to  prepare  her  bath,  and  to  take  her  coffee 
with  bread  which  I  had  toasted." 

"  Was  she  not  well  then?" 

"When  I  inquired  after  her  health  she  said  she 
had  not  slept.  And  the  night  before  it  had  been  the 
same.  She  was  pale,  very  pale,  and  there  were 
shadows  under  her  eyes,  but  she  did  not  complain 
of  illness.  While  I  was  there  the  Signora  came 
and  since  then  the  young  lady  has  not  been  out  of 
her  room." 

"What  is  that  Signora's  name?"  Vanno  asked. 

"I  do  not  know,  Principe,  I  have  not  been  told, 
and  I  do  not  understand  the  sound  of  English  words, 
though  I  have  learned  a  little  French." 

"Is  the  lady's  husband  here?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  very  sad,  tired-looking  gentleman 
who  seems  to  be  ill  himself;  but  he  is  a  doctor.  I 
know  that,  for  when  I  offered  to  make  a  tisane  of 
orange  flowers  for  the  Signorina  to  soothe  her  nerves 
and  bring  her  sleep,  she  thanked  me,  but  said  the 
Signore  had  got  her  a  sleeping  draught  made  up  the 
day  before,  when  he  went  back  over  the  French 
frontier.  She  told  me  that  he  was  a  doctor,  and 
had  prescribed  for  her." 

"A  doctor!"  Vanno  repeated,  suddenly  puzzled. 
He  had  been  confident  that  the  "Signore  and  Sig- 
nora" were  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey.  But  he  had 
never  heard  that  Dauntrey  had  studied  medicine 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     619 

and  practised  in  South  Africa.  "Where  is  the 
Signore  now?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"He  was  with  his  wife  in  the  room  of  the  Sig- 
norina  a  short  time  ago." 

"Take  me  to  the  door  of  that  room,  and  I  will  talk 
with  one  of  them. 

"Oh,  with  the  greatest  joy,  Principe.  I  have  not 
been  happy  leaving  them  alone  with  her,  but  what 
could  I  do?  I  am  only  a  servant." 

"Why  were  you  not  happy  leaving  them  alone 
with  her?  Did  you  think  they  might  do  her  harm?  " 

Apollonia  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  tears 
sparkled  in  her  eyes,  yellow  as  the  eyes  of  a  lioness. 
"How  can  I  tell,  Principe?  She  said  they  were  her 
friends.  And  the  Signore  has  not  a  bad  face.  But 
it  is  his  wife  who  rules.  And  something  in  myself 
tells  me  she  is  wicked,  and  does  not  truly  love 
the  Signorina.  I  have  been  a  wondering  whether 
I  should  go  into  that  room  in  spite  of  those  two,  and 
force  them  to  leave  her.  I  would  not  have  minded 
frightening  them  with  a  big  knife  I  keep  in  the 
kitchen  for  cutting  bread,  only  that  would  have 
alarmed  the  Signorina.  And  perhaps  they  are  not 
bad  after  all.  Then  I  should  have  been  wrong. 
I  have  thought  so  much  yesterday  and  to-day  about 
this  thing  that  I  seem  to  have  wheels  spinning  in 
my  head.  I  thank  the  blessed  saints  who  have  sent 
the  Principe." 

"We  will  go  now  to  the  Signorina's  door,"  said 
Vanno. 

"At  once,  Principe;  but  we  will  find  it  locked." 


620     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"  I  have  tried  it,  softly,  more  than  once,  both  to- 
day and  last  night.  Never  once  have  the  two  left 
the  Signorina  alone.  Always  one  was  with  her. 
Through  the  night  the  Signora  was  there  —  with 
the  key  turned.  One  only  has  come  for  meals." 

"The  gate,  too,  has  been  locked,"  said  Vanno.  "Is 
that  a  custom  here?" 

"No,  Principe,  it  has  always  been  open  since  I 
came  to  serve  the  Captain  Hannaford.  It  is  the 
only  way  of  entrance,  and  there  is  no  gate-bell. 
Not  that  people  often  come.  But  since  the  Signorina 
and  her  friends  arrived,  it  has  been  locked.  It  is 
the  Signora  who  has  the  key.  She  seemed  to  be 
afraid  of  thieves,  though  we  have  nothing  here 
which  thieves  can  take,  unless  she  herself  has 
brought  it.  I  wondered  at  first  how  the  Principe 
had  got  in,  but  as  soon  as  he  told  me  he  was  the 
betrothed  of  the  Signorina,  I  knew  he  would  not  be 
stopped  by  a  locked  gate." 

"I  climbed  over,"  Vanno  admitted,  simply. 
"Those  people  must  have  heard  me  ring  the  door- 
bell, I  suppose?" 

"It  is  likely.  The  Signorina's  room  is  far  away, 
but  the  bell  makes  a  great  noise." 

As  they  talked  in  low  voices  which  the  echoes 
could  not  catch  and  repeat,  Apollonia  was  con- 
ducting Vanno  upstairs,  through  an  upper  hall,  and 
along  a  corridor.  At  the  end  of  this  passage  she 
paused,  without  speaking,  and  indicated  a  door. 
The  Prince  went  close  to  it,  and  called  in  a  clear 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     621 

tone:  "Mary,  it's  I,  Vanno.  I've  come  to  find  you 
and  take  you  away." 

There  was  no  answer;  but  it  seemed  to  him  that 
there  was  a  faint  rustle  as  of  whispering  on  the  other 
side.  He  tried  the  handle.  It  did  not  yield;  and 
Apollonia's  yellow  eyes  sent  out  a  flash  of  excited 
expectation.  She  looked  an  amazon,  waiting  the 
signal  to  fall  upon  an  enemy. 

"Lady  Dauntrey,  I  ask  that  you  will  open  the 
door,"  Vanno  said. 

Almost  immediately  a  key  turned  in  the  lock,  the 
door  opened  quickly,  letting  Eve  Dauntrey  step  out, 
and  was  closed  again  by  her  husband.  It  would 
also  have  been  locked,  but  before  Dauntrey  could 
turn  the  key,  Vanno  twisted  the  handle  round 
violently,  pushed  the  door  back  and  thrust  his  foot 
into  the  aperture. 

"Take  care,  Prince,"  Lady  Dauntrey  said  softly. 
"You  mustn't  frighten  her.  I  assure  you  we're 
acting  for  her  good." 

Her  voice  was  so  calm,  so  gentle  and  even  sincere 
that  in  spite  of  himself  Vanno  was  impressed.  He 
ceased  to  push  against  the  door,  but  kept  his  foot 
in  the  opening. 

"We  were  so  hoping  you'd  come,"  Eve  went  on, 
"and  I  wanted  to  send  for  you,  but  Mary  refused. 
She  said  that  even  if  you  came  she  would  not  see 
you,  because  she  had  broken  off  the  engagement, 
and  never  wished  to  meet  you  again." 

"That  was  all  a  mistake,"  Vanno  said.  "I  must 
see  her." 


622     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"I  quite  understand  how  you  feel,"  Lady  Daun- 
trey  agreed,  soothingly,  "but  don't  you  think,  as 
she's  resting  for  the  first  time  in  more  than  thirty 
hours,  you'd  better  let  the  poor  child  have  her  sleep 
out  first?  I  don't  know  if  you  are  aware  that  my 
husband  is  a  doctor;  but  he  is,  and  practised  in 
South  Africa,  very  successfully.  He's  with  Mary 
now,  and  has  helped  me  watch  over  her.  The  dear 
girl  begged  us  to  come  here.  She  said  there  had  been 
trouble  between  her  and  your  brother  and  sister-in- 
law,  so  she  couldn't  stay  at  their  villa.  Afterward 
she  told  us  about  the  broken  engagement,  and  that 
explained  the  dreadful  state  of  nervousness  she  was 
in  from  the  moment  she  came  to  us  at  Monte  Carlo, 
till  she  collapsed  here,  and  became  delirious.  We 
have  done  our  very  best  —  and  I'm  so  thankful  to 
have  been  with  her,  though  it  was  most  inconvenient 
for  our  plans.  We  were  just  ready  to  start  for  Eng- 
land when  she  appealed  to  us  not  to  let  her  come  to 
this  dreary,  haunted  sort  of  place  by  herself.  I 
don't  know  what  would  have  become  of  the  poor 
darling  if  she'd  been  alone  with  this  dreadful  woman 
—  almost  a  savage  from  the  mountains,  whom  Cap- 
tain Hannaford  engaged  as  caretaker." 

Eve  talked  rapidly  and  gravely,  in  a  whisper. 
As  she  spoke  of  Apollonia,  she  turned  a  look  upon 
her;  and  the  woman  "made  horns"  with  two  point- 
ing fingers.  Vanno  knew  well  what  this  meant. 

If  Lady  Dauntrey's  story  had  begun  to  impress 
him,  that  glance  thrown  at  Apollonia  brought  back 
in  a  flash  all  his  enmity  and  suspicion.  It  was  a  mur- 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     623 

derous  look.  He  knew  that  she  hated  the  woman 
for  having  brought  him  to  the  door  of  Mary's  room. 

He  was  silent  for  an  instant  when  Eve  ceased  to 
speak.  Then  he  said,  "I  won't  disturb  Mary.  I 
will  go  in  quietly  and  look  at  her  while  she  sleeps." 

"You  may  wake  her." 

"If  she  did  not  wake  when  I  called,  she  won't 
wake  at  the  sound  of  a  footstep." 

"But  my  husband — we  ought  to  consult  him- " 

Before  she  could  finish,  Vanno  pushed  open  the 
door,  by  virtue  of  his  strength,  which  was  far  greater 
than  that  of  Lord  Dauntrey,  who  kept  guard  on  the 
other  side.  Noiselessly  the  young  man  entered  the 
room;  and  as  Dauntrey  realized  that  opposition 
would  not  avail,  he  gave  way. 

It  was  a  large  room,  sparsely  furnished,  and  so 
full  of  light  that  for  a  second  or  two  Vanno  was  con- 
fused, after  the  dimness  of  the  corridor  outside.  The 
huge  window  had  no  curtains,  and  the  afternoon 
sunlight  poured  through  it  upon  the  bed  which  stood 
near  by,  facing  the  door.  Mary's  face  lying  low  on 
the  pillow  was  colourless  as  wax.  The  sun  lit  up 
her  hair,  and  turned  it  to  living  gold. 

Vanno  saw  only  the  bed,  and  Mary  lying  there 
asleep.  He  did  not  once  look  at  Dauntrey,  who 
stole  out  on  tiptoe.  Eve,  waiting  for  her  husband, 
put  a  finger  to  her  lips.  As  Apollonia  peered  anx- 
iously into  the  room,  not  daring  to  cross  the  thresh- 
old, Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey  went  softly  away 
together,  as  if  they  were  afraid  that  a  creaking  board 
under  their  feet  might  wake  the  sleeper 


624     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

It  seemed  to  Peter  that  she  must  have  been 
waiting  in  Schuyler's  automobile  for  an  hour,  when 
at  last  she  saw  a  man  and  a  woman  walking 
quickly  down  the  avenue,  toward  the  gate.  She 
had  never  seen  Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey,  but  she 
knew  that  Rose  Winter  and  Vanno  believed  them 
to  be  Mary's  companions.  In  the  hand  of  the 
woman  was  a  small,  rather  flat  bag  of  dark  blue 
Russian  leather,  which  might  be  a  jewel-case  or  a 
miniature  dressing-bag  such  as  women  carry  when 
motoring. 

The  pair  had  come  into  sight  rounding  a  turn  of 
the  drive;  and  they  saw  the  girl  looking  up  from  the 
window  of  the  waiting  car  at  the  moment  when  her 
eyes  fell  upon  them.  For  an  instant  they  slackened 
their  pace,  but  the  woman  spoke  to  the  man,  and 
they  came  on  steadily,  walking  as  briskly  as  before. 
The  man  unfastened  the  gate  with  a  big  key,  which 
he  left  in  the  lock,  and  the  two  stepped  out  into  the 
road.  They  glanced  casually  at  Peter,  her  chauffeur, 
and  the  motor,  as  if  they  would  pass  by,  but  on  an 
impulse  Peter  leaned  from  the  window  and  spoke. 
"Lord  and  Lady  Dauntrey?" 

"Yes,"  the  woman  replied,  stiffly.  "I'm  afraid 
I  don't  remember  — 

"Oh,  we've  never  met,  but  I  knew  you  were  both 
here,  and  I'm  Mary  Maxwell,  Mary  Grant's  best 
friend.  I'll  go  in  and  find  her  and  Prince  Vanno, 
now  the  gate's  unlocked.  I  thought  perhaps  Mary 
was  sending  me  out  her  jewel-case,  as  I  see  you  have 
it  in  your  hand." 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     625 

This  was  a  shot  in  the  dark.  All  that  Peter  knew 
of  the  jewel-case  was  Rose  Winter's  description  of  it, 
when  she  told  of  Mary's  arrival  in  her  absence,  to 
take  it  away;  but  Lady  Dauntrey's  face  said  that 
the  shot  had  not  gone  wide  of  the  mark. 

"It  is  Miss  Grant's  jewel-case,  certainly,"  she 
replied.  "She  put  it  in  my  charge.  Prince  Gio- 
vanni Delia  Robbia  has  insulted  me  and  my  hus- 
band, and  we  are  going  at  once;  but  I'm  too  fond 
of  poor  Mary  to  leave  her  property  at  the  mercy  of 
the  only  servant  in  the  house  —  a  horrible  woman, 
who  would  murder  one  for  a  franc.  She  knows  about 
the  jewels,  and  as  the  Prince  won't  look  after  them 
and  Mary  isn't  able  to,  I  meant  to  take  them  back 
to  Mrs.  Winter." 

"How  good  of  you!  I'll  save  you  the  trouble," 
Peter  said. 

Lady  Dauntrey  looked  at  her  with  narrow  eyes, 
Dauntrey  standing  apart  listlessly.  "I  don't  know 
you,"  Eve  objected. 

"You  can  ask  Mr.  James  Schuyler's  chauffeur 
about  me,"  Peter  suggested.  "Or  if  you  won't  ac- 
cept his  word,  wait  a  little  while,  and  I'll  take  you 
both  to  Monte  Carlo  and  Mrs.  Winter's  house,  where 
I'm  staying." 

"I  really  think  you  had  better  trust  this  lady," 
Dauntrey  said.  He  looked  at  his  wife  with  his  sad, 
tired  eyes.  Eve  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  handed 
Peter  the  bag.  "Well,  the  responsibility  is  off  my 
hands,  anyhow!"  she  cried.  "That's  one  comfort. 
And  it's  much  more  convenient  for  us  not  to  go 


626     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

to  Monte  Carlo,  on  other  people's  business.  Mary 
Grant's  jewels  are  nothing  to  us." 

"Of  course  not,"  Peter  agreed,  pleasantly.  "I 
hope  Mary's  well?" 

"Then  you'll  be  disappointed,"  Eve  replied,  her 
eyes  very  bright.  "She's  far  from  well.  My  hus- 
band, an  experienced  doctor,  has  been  treated 
unbearably  by  the  Prince.  You  can  bear  witness 
that  he  leaves  his  patient  only  because  he  was  in- 
sulted. I  advise  you,  if  you're  fond  of  Mary  Grant, 
to  get  in  some  one  else,  or  it  may  be  too  late.  It's 
impossible  to  know  what  she  may  have  done,  but  my 
private  opinion  is  that  her  love  troubles  were  too 
much  for  her,  and  she  took  something " 

"Eve!"  Dauntrey  stopped  his  wife.  "Be  careful 
what  you  say." 

"Well,  it's  no  longer  our  affair,  since  the  Prince 
has  taken  matters  into  his  own  hands,  and  practi- 
cally turned  out  Mary's  best  friends.  Good  after- 
noon, Miss  Maxwell." 

They  walked  off  quickly,  without  looking  back, 
the  two  tall  figures  marching  shoulder  to  shoulder  in 
the  direction  of  Latte,  the  nearest  railway  station. 

"You oughtn't  to  have  said  what  you  did,"  Daun- 
trey reproached  Eve. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  replied.  "That  girl  nearly  drove 
me  mad.  To  think  she's  got  the  jewels!  Nothing 
to  pay  us  for  it  all,  except  the  money  from  the 
cheque." 

"Serves  us  right,"  Dauntrey  said  grimly.  "I'd 
thank  God  we're  out  of  it  at  any  price,  if  God  was 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     627 

likely  to  be  looking  after  us.  Better  thank  the 
devil." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,"  Eve  implored  him. 
"There's  nothing  against  us,  nothing.  I'm  sorry 
I  blurted  out  that  about  her  taking  some  stuff,  but 
it  can't  do  us  any  harm.  You  said  yourself,  nobody 
could  find  out  what " 

"They  couldn't  prove,  but  they  might  suspect. 
God!  What  hideous  days!  I  never  thought  the 
stuff  would  act  on  her  like  that,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
let  you  persuade  me " 

"I  know  you  wouldn't,"  Eve  cut  him  short.  "It 
was  my  fault.  You  thought  there  was  only  a  slight 
risk " 

"Yes,  but  it  acted  differently  from  the  beginning. 
I  didn't  suppose  it  would  send  her  to  sleep.  God 
knows  I  did  everything  I  knew  to  wake  her  up " 

"Well,  we're  out  of  it  all  now,"  Eve  soothed  him. 
"Remember,  they  can't  prove  anything.  Even  if 
they  send  after  us,  and  make  us  come  back,  they'll 
have  their  trouble  for  their  pains.  We've  been 
clever." 

"You  have!" 

"Everything's  for  and  nothing  against  us.  Per- 
haps it's  as  well  the  fellow  came,  after  all.  He's 
given  us  our  excuse  to  go  in  a  hurry.  And  we've 
got  money  —  in  gold,  no  notes,  thank  goodness. 
Only  —  I  shall  dream  of  those  jewels  at  night." 

"Best  to  be  rid  of  them,  as  things  have*  turned  out. 
If  she'd  given  them  to  us,  as  you  hoped,  it  would  have 
been  all  right,  but 


628     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

"No  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,"  Eve  sighed. 
"Let's  walk  faster.  There  ought  to  be  a  train  for 
Genoa  in  twenty  minutes,  if  your  time-table  is 
right.  That  reminds  me,  I  never  posted  her  letter 
to  the  convent,  but  it  doesn't  matter  now." 

Mary  lay  on  her  back  between  the  pillows,  her 
hair  loose  around  her  face,  a  thick  plait  of  it  tossed 
out  over  the  faded  green  silk  quilt.  One  arm  sup- 
ported her  head,  the  other  was  hidden  by  the  bed 
covering.  The  bright  light  that  streamed  through 
the  window  was  an  illumination. 

Suddenly  it  was  as  if  an  iron  hand  seized  Vanno's 
heart  and  slowly  pressed  the  blood  out  of  it.  The 
thought  had  flashed  into  his  head  that  she  was  more 
than  ever  before  like  a  gentle  and  lovely  Juliet,  but 
Juliet  in  the  tomb,  her  white  beauty  lit  by  many 
candles. 

If  she  were  dead  —  if  those  people  had  killed 
her  - 

Never  had  Vanno  seen  any  one  sleep  so  soundly. 
There  was  no  flicker  of  the  eyelids,  no  quivering  of 
the  nostrils,  no  rising  and  falling  of  the  breast.  He 
laid  his  hand  over  her  heart,  and  could  not  feel  it 
beating,  yet  he  was  not  sure  that  it  did  not  beat 
very  faintly.  There  were  bounding  pulses  in  his 
hand  as  he  touched  her.  He  could  not  tell  whether 
it  was  his  own  blood  that  throbbed,  or  whether  hers 
spoke  to  his,  through  living  veins. 

Very  gently  he  lifted  her  head,  and  laying  it  down 
again,  higher  on  the  pillow  whence  it  seemed  to  have 


THE    GUESTS    OF     HERCULES     629 

slipped,  he  moved  the  arm  that  had  supported  it. 
Then  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  he  kissed  her  hand 
again  and  again.  It  was  very  cold,  cold  as  a  lily, 
he  thought,  yet  not  so  cold  as  a  lily  killed  by  the 
frost. 

If  some  one  had  come  to  him  at  that  moment  and 
said,  "Mary  is  dead,"  he  would  have  believed  that 
it  was  the  truth,  for  she  looked  as  if  her  eyes  had  seen 
the  light  beyond  this  world.  She  was  not  smiling, 
yet  there  was  a  radiance  on  her  face  which  did  not 
seem  to  be  given  by  the  sunset.  Rather  did  the 
light  appear  to  come  from  within.  Yet,  because  no 
one  said  aloud  the  words  that  went  echoing  through 
his  heart,  Vanno  would  not  believe  that  Mary  was 
dead. 

"If  I  have  lost  you  in  this  world,"  he  said  aloud, 
as  though  she  could  hear  him,  "I  will  follow  where 
you  are,  to  tell  you  that  we  belong  to  one  another 
through  all  eternity,  and  nothing  can  part  us. 
But  you  haven't  gone.  You  could  not  leave  me 
so." 

As  he  spoke  to  her,  on  his  knees,  her  cold  hand 
pressed  against  his  warm  throat,  he  kept  his  eyes 
upon  her  face,  hungrily,  watching  for  some  sign  that 
her  spirit  heard  him  from  very  far  off.  But  there 
was  no  change.  The  dark,  double  line  of  her  lashes 
did  not  break.  Her  lips  kept  their  faint,  mysterious 
half-smile. 

Vanno  resolved  that  if  she  had  gone,  he  too 
would  go,  for  without  her  the  world  was  empty 
and  dead. 


630    THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

It  was  then  that  Peter  stole  to  the  open  door  with 
Apollonia,  and  looked  in.  Her  impulse  was  to  cry 
out,  and  run  into  the  room  to  sob  at  her  friend's 
feet;  but  something  held  her  back.  It  was  as  if  she 
caught  a  strain  of  music;  and  she  remembered  the 
air.  It  came  from  the  opera  of  "Romeo  e  Giuletta," 
which  she  had  heard  in  New  York  a  year  ago.  The 
music  was  as  reminiscently  distinct  as  if  her  brain 
were  a  gramophone.  She  had  seen  a  tableau  like 
this,  of  two  lovers,  while  that  music  played  in  the 
theatre;  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  had  thought, 
"If  only  Romeo  had  waited,  if  he  had  had  faith,  he 
could  have  called  her  back  again." 

She  did  not  enter  the  room,  but  standing  by  the 
door  she  said  softly  yet  clearly,  "Don't  let  her  go. 
Call  her  spirit.  Maybe  it  is  near.  Tell  her  that  you 
are  calling  her  back  to  happiness  and  love.  I  be- 
lieve she  will  come  to  you,  because  you  are  her  heart 
and  her  soul.  I  am  going,  and  I  will  bring  a  doctor. 
But  you  are  the  only  one  who  can  save  her  now." 

The  girl's  voice  had  no  personality  for  Vanno.  He 
did  not  turn  his  mind  for  an  instant  to  Peter.  It 
was  as  if  his  own  thoughts  spoke  aloud  and  gave  him 
counsel  what  to  do. 

He  rose  from  his  knees,  and  sitting  on  the  side  of 
the  bed  gathered  Mary  up  into  his  arms.  He  held 
her  closely  against  his  breast,  her  hair  twined  in  his 
clasping  fingers.  Then  he  bent  his  head  over  the 
upturned  face,  and  whispered. 

"Darling,"  he  said,  "heart  of  my  heart,  wherever 
you  are  have  mercy  and  come  back  to  me.  I  can't 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     631 

live  without  you.  You  are  my  all.  God  will  give 
you  to  me  if  you  will  come.  You  look  so  happy, 
but  you  will  be  happier  with  me,  for  you  can't  go 
and  leave  everything  unfinished.  Best  and  dearest 
one,  I  need  you.  Come  back!  Come  back!" 

Mary's  spirit  had  crossed  the  threshold  and  stood 
looking  out  into  the  unknown,  which  stretched  on 
and  on  into  endlessness,  like  a  sea  of  light  ringing 
round  the  world;  and  in  this  sea  there  was  music 
which  seemed  to  be  part  of  the  light.  She  thought 
that  she  had  been  almost  engulfed  in  a  terrible 
storm  with  waves  mountain-high  arising  over  her 
head  in  a  great  darkness,  and  explosive  noises  of 
machinery  loud  in  her  ears  as  when  Carleton  took 
her  through  the  water  of  the  harbour  in  his  hydro- 
aeroplane. But  the  noise  had  ceased,  and  the  dark- 
ness was  gone.  All  was  light  and  peace.  She  was 
conscious  that  she  had  struggled  and  suffered,  that 
she  had  borne  a  burden  of  unhappiness  which  had 
been  too  heavy  for  her  shoulders.  The  burden  had 
fallen  off.  She  was  no  longer  unhappy,  and  though 
her  heart  was  empty  of  joy,  dimly  she  seemed  to  hear 
an  assurance  that  soon  it  would  be  filled  to  over- 
flowing. The  promise  was  in  the  music  that  was 
part  of  the  light,  and  of  the  great  sea  over  which  she 
was  passed.  She  knew  that  she  was  far  above  it 
now,  and  rising  higher,  as  she  had  risen  in  the  aero- 
plane when  she  had  felt  the  wonder  after  the 
shrinking.  But  something  which  had  been  herself 
lay  under  the  sea,  down  in  the  storm  and  the  darkness 
she  had  left  behind. 


632     THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES 

Then,  suddenly,  the  music  was  disturbed.  Through 
it  she  listened  to  a  vague  undertone  of  sorrow;  and 
she  became  aware  that  some  one  was  suffering  as  she 
had  suffered,  some  one  whom  she  had  loved  —  some 
one  whom  she  would  always  love.  Out  of  the  dark- 
ness a  voice  was  calling  her  to  come  back.  Indis- 
tinct and  far  away  at  first,  it  became  clear,  insistent, 

irresistible. 

******* 

A  faint  shiver  ran  through  Mary's  body,  and 
Vanno's  heart  leaped  against  her  breast,  as  if  he  sent 
his  life  to  warm  her  heart. 

"  Come  back  to  me,  if  you  loved  me!"  he  called  her. 

Very  slowly  she  opened  her  eyes,  dazzled  still  with 
the  light  she  had  seen  through  the  open  door. 

"Mary,  come  back  and  save  me!"  he  cried  to  her 
out  of  the  darkness. 

"I  am  coming,"  she  whispered,  not  sure  if  she 
was  answering  in  a  dream  to  a  voice  in  a  dream. 
But  the  light  of  the  wondrous  sea  was  dimmed  to 
the  light  of  an  earthly  sunset.  Through  it  Vanno's 
eyes  called  to  her  as  his  voice  had  called  —  those 
eyes  which  had  been  her  stars  of  love  —  and  she 
forgot  the  brighter  light,  just  seen  and  lost. 

"You!"  she  said.     "It's  like  —  heaven - 

"It  is  heaven  —  now,"  he  answered,  as  he  held  her 

closely. 

******* 

When  Mary  was  well  again,  the  cure  married  her 
to  her  Prince,  and  the  two  went  together  into  the 
desert  that  Vanno  loved.  There  it  did  not  matter 


THE    GUESTS    OF    HERCULES     633 

to  them  that  Angelo  was  thinking  coldly  and  harshly 
of  them  both;  and  perhaps  there  was  even  an  added 
sweetness  in  Mary's  happiness  because  a  sacrifice 
of  hers  could  spare  pain  to  one  very  near  to  Vanno. 
She  would  not  let  her  husband  say  that  he  could  not 
forgive  his  brother. 

"But  if  our  love  is  to  be  perfect,  we  must  forgive 
Angelo,  and  poor  Marie  too,"  she  told  him. 

Late  in  the  summer  (they  had  left  Egypt  long 
ago,  and  were  in  the  high  mountains  of  Algeria), 
one  day  a  letter  came  to  Vanno,  forwarded  on 
from  place  after  place,  where  it  had  missed  him. 
Angelo  had  written  at  last. 

"Perhaps  you  may  have  seen,"  he  said,  "in  some 
paper,  that  in  giving  me  a  little  daughter  my  wife 
died.  She  left  a  letter  to  be  handed  me  after  her 
death,  if  a  presentiment  she  had  were  fulfilled.  If 
she  had  lived,  I  would  have  forgiven  her.  Will  you 
and  Mary  forgive  me?" 

There  was  no  question  as  to  what  their  answer 
would  be. 

"When  two  people  love  each  other  as  we  do," 
Vanno  said,  "I  see  now  that  there  can  be  no  room 
for  any  bitterness  in  their  hearts." 

THE  END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


ET 


uc  soy 


